A Fiery Soul
by RedheadRennie
Summary: Central is under attack and Roy is the first line of defense to save the city. But the terrorist organization behind the destruction has more than one goal. They're not just out to destroy Amestris. They want to destroy the Flame Alchemist himself. {Set one year after FMAB; rated T for adult themes and situations}
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

His coat blew about in the sudden inferno. The sound and feel of dry scorched air was too familiar to him for his body to not respond without instruction. He activated the array on his gloved hand and quickly stalled the explosion across the street. The flames hit a gaseous wall of carbon dioxide of his creation and they faltered. Their liquid lives spiraled upwards towards fresh, untainted air. Screams, chaos, unnerving silence. His black eyes saw the damage in the hollowed walls of the library. It was a shell where once had been a haven of knowledge.

He was the Flame Alchemist. Fire, in any shape, form or style, was what he did. It was the fuel that had blasted him up the ranks so early. Gave him ammunition in a debate. It was the source of his humility, the fountain that kept him levelheaded. Because when you can kill people with a snap of your fingers, you learn to keep everything tightly reined in. Even something so inconsequential as a snap could end a life.

That didn't mean he used it solely in lieu of guns or fists, but it sure came in handy when the other two weren't the best or foremost options. It had become so much a part of him that even when he wasn't wearing the gloves, he wouldn't let himself snap. He wouldn't ever let himself forget that seemingly innocent sound which could kill, save, and destroy.

Fire had become so much of who and what he was that he didn't think twice about running into the inferno to do his duty. Fire wasn't controllable, but air was. Creating oxygen, dispersing carbon dioxide, clearing a path from the fire…he had practice doing it all. Putting his hand out in front and snapping, the circle on the back of his glove lit and he watched the flames in his way die and wither only to leave singed but walkable paths for him to traverse. The hollow tunnel of carbon dioxide kept him insulted from the flames like glass and the tube of breathable air he walked through was hot, but not impassable. He would walk through clear blackness before stopping, putting his hand out to snap, and start the process all over again. The flames caved in behind him when he stopped choking them of fresh oxygen and made another section of safe tunnel to walk through.

The scream coming from so far away told him that his path was right. Someone had survived. Wrong time, wrong place, but perhaps still not without some luck. He coughed into his shirt sleeve, his eyes dry and burning the same as the wooden beams that fell from the ceiling.

He pushed through the thick smoke like it was fog. He could feel his throat tighten and he fought back another chest-racking cough. He heard the scream again. He trudged forward. A beam fell in front of him, fire and embers roaring to life where once had been a clear pathway. He lost his concentration and the flames tried to flood back in like water. Embers landed on his shirt, singing his flesh beneath cotton and forcing him to refocus his alchemy and encase himself within a gaseous barrier. Finding his mission and a clear path again, he heard the scream once more. He ran, ignoring splintering floorboards. Coming to a room not yet completely engulfed with flame, he saw a child.

Ignoring all of the questions that trod over his battling mind, he picked the wailing child up in his arms. He turned to leave the room and found the clear path he'd used to get in consumed by ravaging wisps of flame. His alchemy brought in more oxygen surrounded by carbon dioxide to give him a barrier between himself and the red, living heat.

The child was holding tight to him, tears and ash staining them both. So close to his own ear, Mustang was grateful the bawling had stopped. The cool, pristine air enveloped them again when he stepped into the street, the child held to himself. The fire brigade had already assembled; onlookers had mobilized to help those who'd managed to walk away.

A single cry of relieved love and a young woman rushed forward to claim her son. The cry of 'mommy' and Mustang let go his hold on the child. She dotted kisses to her child's face and hair, swaddling him tightly to herself. A hurried thank you and they were ushered away by MPs who had already taken control of the scene. Looking back to the flickering lights, Mustang could only stare at the golden red hell in front of him.

Amestris was under attack.


	2. Enter the Enemy

**Enter the Enemy**

The stars were like holes in a black velvet blanket with light shone behind it. The storm front had passed and the crystal clear sky revealed the gorgeous view of the celestial lights. The few inches of snow had been enough. It made her smile even as she reclined on the brick wall that was coated by it. One foot swung idly over the side and the other she had propped on the garden wall itself. She'd tucked her right arm under her covered head to be a pillow against the brick. She'd managed to find enough scraps of fabric that were easily transmuted into a hooded cloak. It may have been a few sizes too big on her, but at least she could wrap herself up in it for the evening. And even though the bare skin of her arm touched snow, the cold wasn't a bother.

Moving clandestinely through Central had been difficult. With the bombing earlier today, not to mention the one which had occurred last week, tension ran through the streets like flood waters. Thick and tangible and suffocating. Only now that the sun had gone down and most decent folk had retired for the evening did she feel any sense of peace. Taking a moment to enjoy it, she'd lost track of time while staring at the stars.

With any luck, she could be in and out of Central without issue.

The familiar thuds of heavy combat boots made her sit up, straighten, and her eyes scan the dark streets that had only soft yellow pools of lamplight intermittently showing figures in the distance. She turned on the top of the bricks to face the courtyard behind it and landed softly in darkness. She'd become accustomed to listening for that distinct sound. Hearing it earlier than the military saw her kept everyone safe.

Lowered voices talked of plans; hushed and tense, their voices were getting closer. Pressed up against the frozen bricks and hidden from view, she listened. They hadn't seen her and were too preoccupied with their conversation to notice the bare brick on top of the wall where the snow had melted under her.

"Are you sure it's him?" a thick voice mumbled with a distinctly southern accent.

"It is. He's in the pub. Might be the best chance we have." a second, feminine voice chimed in.

"What about Roderick?"

"He's already there, waiting."

"Any of his men with him? Or other alchemists?" the first voice asked quickly.

"A few of his soldiers," the third voice was lighter, masculine but not deep.

"Fine. We'll have to move quick. If he gets his gloves on, we're done."

Chest heaving in assumption, she knew exactly who was facing off with whom. She'd followed stories of the terrorists, who now plagued Amestris, as they moved through other countries. While they'd gained strength elsewhere, it had always been the apparent goal to make it here, to Central. The ringleader she'd kept track of, Roderick, had boasted and proclaimed his messianic mission to angry masses to lure followers. Now, with the mention of gloves, it was painfully obvious who was the next target of his vitriol. Heavy footfalls faded; she jumped back up and over the wall to land on the sidewalk. The figures in their black coats walked on, almost invisible in the night. Behind them she trailed, staying in the shadows to watch when they came up to their rendezvous.

The little pub was still glowing with bustling patronage inside. The three she'd followed met up with a vehicle shrouded in the dark, away from the spilled light of the windows. She couldn't see anyone inside the vehicle. It was a new moon; the lack of light kept them hidden. The pub door blew open and a handful of boisterous laborers trod out into the cold, laughing and lamenting their next day's work. While their exit wasn't unnoticed, it didn't spark movement from the supposed terrorists. No, their target was still inside while more customers poured out; lights dimmed inside. Last call? Yet the terrorists lingered.

* * *

He'd had gotten used to listening instead of just hearing. Listening to the sounds of those around him, of those he couldn't see. He would listen to the weather outside, just the way the wind hit the buildings, and know what season had come around. Or he could hear a footstep and know the owner. Even something so small as a pen against paper, and he listened to it. He'd gotten good at it, had become so accustomed to it that he wondered why he'd never bothered honing the skill before he'd lost his sight.

Roy Mustang reached for the tumbler of scotch he'd put down and, sure enough, it was right where he'd left it. Not having moved an inch, he was able to grasp it just the same as when his eyes were opened.

If he listened closely, he could hear the whispers in the corner – they knew he'd had a fair share and were unsure if coaxing him to home would be wiser than letting him drown his sorrows. Closer, louder, a game of billiards was clacking and resounding. Drinks were being poured into thick glass mugs down the bar and the shout of last call prompted motion all around.

The door opened, creaked, and slammed shut with all the noise of an indifferent patron leaving the establishment. Heavy boots, most likely a laborer. His entourage in the corner still hadn't come to talk to him. No doubt they'd realized he was well into his fifth tumbler of amber salvation. He wasn't here to be coaxed home. He was here to forget and move on. Just like everyone else.

Al and Edward had moved to Rush Valley to be with Ed's young Rockbell woman. Their sensei had continued traveling, her husband at her side. Olivia had gone back to Briggs, taking Falman with her. General Grumman still played with the strings of the government, running around as Fuehrer. The foreigners had gone back to their own country and their own political problems. And every day, he fought against terrorists who couldn't be found until the bombs had already caused devastation.

Today, he'd been lucky. He'd been nearby and was able to save a child from a fiery death. Only a week ago, he hadn't been so lucky. The body hadn't been found, but the State Alchemist Academy had confirmed that their missing student was likely killed in the blast. She was only eleven. Young. Innocent. And now gone thanks to a bomb which targeted anyone in its path. The phone call to the parents…telling them their daughter had been lost…

"You okay there, General?" Havoc's voice brought him back to the present.

He opened his eyes and let the sights come rushing back at him. He nodded, bringing the tumbler to his lips again. The Promised Day had caused him to go blind for three weeks; for that time, he'd never pitied himself. He'd acclimated. With Marco's intervention, the blindness had been cured. He'd been able to see again. And the first sight to his healed eyes was Hawkeye. Still as gorgeous as ever, but so very different.

They'd all changed after that day. It had been a year since then, and the incident had been all but forgotten by most citizens. The transfer of power had been peaceful. The newly appointed Congress made things a bit more complicated than he liked, but was competent.

"General?" Havoc asked again.

Mustang sighed, "Just listening," he admitted.

"Well, I'm cashing out. Early morning for us tomorrow," Havoc pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Inhaling deep, he puffed the smoke from his lips and pushed away the empty glass.

Mustang nodded, "I'll stay a while longer."

"You sure?"

He nodded and looked beyond the bottom of his tumbler. That golden liquid did little to give him any answers he sought, but was a better companion than an empty house. He wanted to drink until that young girl's school portrait, vivacious and proud, no longer haunted his every step.

"Well, perhaps I'll have another, then," Havoc smiled and walked down the bar to get the barkeep's attention.

He walked. Another of Dr. Marco's miracles. His injury healed, he was back in the military where he claimed he belonged. Mustang's men had followed him through that day, and they'd all managed to come out alive. A bit worse for wear, but alive. And that was something worth drinking to.

He sighed and tilted the drink back to finish it; he placed the empty glass on the copper bar top that boasted a formidable patina. He would wait for the barkeep to come to him. As Havoc and Hawkeye both returned towards him, he smiled on the inside. No doubt, Hawkeye had insisted they stay with him until he retired for the night. She'd been at his side when he'd called that family last week, and had heard everything that he himself had; he hadn't been able to sleep well since.

Watching the glass filled again, he looked around the room. The band was just now packing up, but the dancing had ended long ago. Most folk that were here now were too old for revelry. They'd all seen too much of the world to dance any problems away. And, although he wasn't old, he wasn't a spring chicken, either. His hands ached from the cold outside and his body reminded him of some prior battles. The abrupt change in weather had ignited old wounds and he supposed that was one downside of surviving them. Wrapping his hands around the glass, he held it for a moment and stared at the mirrored reflection across the bar.

Everyone, save him and his, left and sought shelter from the oncoming cold night. Winter had come early and with a vengeance. Strong snows had already dotted Central twice in the past week. The unusual cold had made Roy wish for warm summers past. The bottom of the glass beckoned like sunlight. Thankful for the friendship which allowed him to stay past closing, Roy drank; two comrades with him, and he couldn't help but wonder if they were haunted by that child's face, too.

"Time for me to head home, you three," the barkeep said gently as he finished his chore of wiping down the bartop; his sympathetic gaze lingered on Roy and he did nothing to meet it.

Roy reached into his pocket and pulled out enough bills to cover his tab while Riza and Jean did the same. Pushing back from the bar and standing, he pulled on his thick black coat. Havoc and Hawkeye did, too. His uniform jacket made it feel a size too small, but the cold against his old wounds wasn't something he wanted to feel tonight. The barkeep walked with them to the exit and opened the door. The blast of cold air was a thick and tangible reminder that he had to face yet another night alone.

 ** _Pain._**

A heavy body thick with fur lunged at him and he was forced to the ground with nothing but his forearm between him and the dog which had attacked him. The teeth bit down into his flesh and he yelped. The corner of his vision showed the barkeep being knocked about the head with the butt of a rifle; Havoc and Hawkeye were quickly attacked. The spittle from the dog rained down on his face and he thrust his forearm forward to jostle it's toothy grip. He rolled to put his hands and feet beneath him. His finger made it to the bottom of his pocket where his gloves were hidden. The fire cloth brushed against his bare skin.

He blamed the scotch for the delay in his reaction when a fist flew at his gut. He doubled over and was hit to the ground with a heavy hand that came down on the base of his skull. Flat on the wooden floor, he tried to push himself up. The dog came at him again and he was forced to let the beast sink its teeth into his battered forearm rather than into his neck. He could hear Havoc curse. Hawkeye grabbed a barstool to slam down on one of the attackers before a gunshot ricocheted and his ears rang. He wasn't able to dodge a baseball bat and it connected with his shoulder. The dog wrestled him to the ground. Roy looked to Hawkeye and she was forced to her knees alongside Havoc.

Two men grabbed him and brought him to his knees. The dog was called off but continued to bark. Hawkeye and Havoc were in much the same position. Roy tried to jostle the grips that kept his arms out wide, but to no avail. The men who had attacked were silent. With cloth covering the bottom halves of their faces, the men just waited. No, not just men. Roy could see that now. Some had curves beneath the black and brown layers of tattered clothes. Most were sporting long arms and pistols that, while outdated, were still widely used. The one on his left reached down deep into his pocket and pulled out his ignition gloves, tossing them onto the bar and out of reach.

Roy scoffed, "This must be the Republic. I was wondering when you roaches would come out."

His goading did nothing. But from the open door, another figure walked in. Same tattered clothes, same bleak look, face half-masked, hands held behind his back. Only, Roy noticed, the individuals standing guard moved aside. Even the dog calmed down. A ringleader, perhaps?

"Roy Mustang. The Flame Alchemist. Such a perfect start for our revolution," the voice that spoke held no identifying accent, no emotion, but reverberated deeply.

"Kill me, and all of Amestris will be on your tail."

The man pulled off his heavy winter gloves, "We have no intention of killing you...yet," he chuckled. Roy tried to jostle the grip that immobilized him again. The man only walked closer with his hand out. No weapons. Roy's unsure glance darted from the seemingly innocent outstretched hand to the half-covered face of the man who owned it.

A heavy slab of clear stone—a diamond wall?— erupted from the floor to throw the waiting attacker backwards and to the side. The floor to ceiling stone separated the ringleader and his henchmen. A blur of gold haze and the terrorists restraining Roy, Jean and Riza were screaming in agony. Free from his attackers, Roy stood and readied to throw a punch to the one which was closest. It wasn't needed. The terrorists collapsed violently, screaming through bloody faces and bodies curling up in a fetal position. He'd seen that before…

"Roy!" a female voice called to him.

Turning his head to see who had yelled, he saw a shrouded young woman at the back door. She tossed a pistol to him and he caught it; it was still warm from a new transmutation and full of ammunition. His head on a swivel, his gloves were beyond the wall that had been created. Havoc and Hawkeye both regrouped by him, their own guns drawn. For a moment, there was a reprieve.

The woman removed her hood. Her white hair and obsidian eyes were unmistakeable. And despite the harsh feelings which arose at the sight of his young heroine, his attention was diverted to the favor she had done. Wordless, they stared at each other. He couldn't comprehend why she, of all people, would come to his rescue. She walked closer with those coal eyes focused entirely on him. The sounds beyond the wall died down. Her mouth opened ever so slightly with the beginnings of a sentence. His own jaw clenched and he readied to silence her.

"General!" Havoc yelled. Roy was quickly aware of the mechanical whine that was growing louder. Havoc grabbed at the girl and pulled her back as the translucent wall exploded inwards.

The fragments flew at them. Shielding his face with his arm, Roy felt a few pieces of the stone slice through the battered skin there. A massive chunk hit the woman's shoulder and she cried out, falling back to the floor. Roy could see her head spin with the pain of a dislocated arm and she curled up, trying to block it out. Jean started to run to her side but a half dozen terrorists ran through the hole that had been created. Darting to get his glove which was still on the bartop, Roy rolled forward under the first rifle that was being used as a club towards his head. Feet under himself once again, he stood only to have a fist land on his jaw. Backpedaling away from the men, he tried grab the glove. Havoc and Hawkeye were shooting, catching kneecaps and keeping the ever-increasing group at bay.

One snap and he could end this fight. He was tackled and the man who'd latched onto him quickly rolled. Roy's hands were held hostage. Subdued for the moment and glove out of reach, Roy struggled. They threw another fast punch to his gut and he doubled over. His breath came in shallow gulps and the throb in his head wasn't just from the attack.

Blue electric ripped the floorboards apart for a moment, but was cut short. Roy watched helplessly while the white-haired girl was grabbed by the lapels and a fist landed onto her eye. The man released her, hovering and gloating while she writhed in pain on the floor, still grasping at her shoulder. Another gleam of blue electric and she had managed to upset the man's footing. He stumbled. She tried to run, to put enough distance between her and her attacker.

Roy's own arms still pinned out to the sides, he felt another punch land into his gut; he fought to focus on her. Without preamble, without clapping, she crouched down and faced the man who ran after her to place her hand on the floor. He picked up a barstool the same time she tried to form a wall to defend herself. The man brought the barstool across her head before she could complete the wall and rendered her a puddle on the floor. Even though she was an accomplished alchemist, she was diminutive.

She'd always been petite, Roy recalled.

The man brought his foot up under her ribs. Roy could hear the snap of bone. She yelped, but grabbed onto her attacker's opposite ankle and dug her nails in.

The man screamed. His body started to glow red from the inside. The slight distraction was enough for the attackers and Roy threw their grip on his arms. The men holding him tumbled forward. Turning, he slammed his aching hand onto the bar and his glove. Like an old friend, he slipped it on and smiled to feel that familiar cloth against his skin. Raising his hand to snap and singe the man who'd managed to wrest free from the alchemy being used on him, he was stopped when a butt of a gun came down onto his elbow. The white-haired woman was lifted from the ground by her throat.

She was thrown. Roy lifted his hand and snapped. The arid heat of fire ripped through the building. He forgot to take into calculation the increased oxygen left from using the carbon for the diamond wall. The fireball exploded outwards faster than Roy meant for it to and the force of it threw them all to the ground - he barely had the mind to protect his soldiers during the explosion. The sounds of a shattering windows came from the woman being thrown as much as the volatile force he'd unleashed. He doused the fireball and extinguished it, glad to see his soldiers had been encased momentarily in a carbon gas bubble which shielded them from the flames. The terrorists…

The man who had approached him with ungloved hands was nowhere to be seen. The others who hadn't been taken out by the first alchemical defense were singed on the ground, lifeless. He didn't care about any of them at this particular moment. Running out of the bar, Roy looked for the white-haired woman.

Bright lights made him shield his eyes and skid to a halt. The roar of a car engine made his heart stop. A sudden movement destroyed his equilibrium and he landed face first in a small bank of snow on the side of the road. He heard a dull thud and glass shattering. But the pain he expected never came. Turning and sitting up, he saw that he'd been forced him out of the car's path. With the girl on the hood and windshield, the driver swerved. A moment that happened in a blink of an eye took an eternity. He watched as she was launched like a rag doll from the hood and glass. Her body ungracefully landed in the snow. She slid along, the whiteness parting for her and leaving a clear path of crimson blood. He ran towards her. The man driving the car got away and the tires squealed as he accelerated.

The scene before him was a warzone. The outcroppings of diamond jutted up in semi circles inside the rubble of the bar. Men, several unrecognizable, were strewn about. Hearing a whimper, the dog which she had cast backwards ran off, tail between its legs. She had gone easy on the mutt. The men...

It could only be described as carnage. Bodies were bloody beyond recognition. Eye sockets were hollow in fear but the expression remained even in death.

Sirens screamed in the distance. Moving towards her, he saw movement. She tried to bring her good hand and knees under herself. Failing, she collapsed into the snow again and cried in pain. Mustang tallied her wounds in his head, knowing she'd born the brunt of the intervention: shoulder, head, internal...Those coal eyes could barely focus on him, but her hand reached out to touch his own. Even covered in snow she still felt warm. She smiled drunkenly in pain.

He looked over his shoulder to see a familiar face. "General!" Hawkeye ran closer. With his trademark flames still bright, he saw fear reflected in those chocolate eyes. He felt himself soften momentarily before admiration turned into cold detachment.

"Captain!" he called out.

Getting down to her knees in the snow and searching him for serious wounds, he caught her prodding hands, "I need you to bring her to my flat. Call Dr. Knox and tell him he has a patient," Roy ordered.

"Sir..."

"She can't be here when the MPs show up. If I leave the scene, they'll ask questions," he explained softly.

Her eyes unsure, she nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Havoc and I'll be along as quick as we can," he lifted Amelie into his arms. Warm blood coated his already damp jacket. Hawkeye obediently opened the backseat door for her car parked across the street and he laid her inside. A slight pause was all his Captain afforded before getting into the driver's seat and speeding off towards his home. He watched the black car disappear around a corner about the same time the flashing red and blue lights lit the snow around him. Havoc walked over and lit a cigarette.

"Don't mention the girl," was all Mustang said. Havoc nodded. He remained standing and turned to look at the MPs which had arrived on the scene.

The sergeant who saluted him looked around, "Are you all right, sirs?"

Mustang nodded and looked to his forearm, "Dog bite. Otherwise, I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"They attacked us. Seems like they might be a part of the Republic."

The man looked around and offered a small smile, "Glad to see you're all right, sirs. An ambulance is on the way. They can take you to the hospital for a proper checkup."

Mustang summoned an exasperated sigh, "Just some stitches and I'll be fine."

Havoc shrugged, "No wounds here."

Eyes looking over them both, the sergeant nodded and pulled out a notepad, "Then, if I could just have your record, so I can let you get some rest, General?"

"Of course."

Mustang proceeded to detail the events, making sure to leave out a particular white haired young woman who, truthfully, had most likely saved his life. Still, why she'd come back after so long away perplexed him. And, worried him. While her timing tonight might have proven useful, it was her continued stay that would complicate and make more issues for him as he dealt with the onslaught of terrorist attacks.

Not to mention, she was still considered a fugitive.

* * *

Riza Hawkeye knew Roy had his reasons. They were valid. But as she sat in a corner chair watching this mysterious young woman be tended to in Roy's bed, she couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy alongside a bit of anger. Who she was hadn't been discussed and there hadn't been enough time to ask questions. Her General had asked and she had obeyed.

The woman looked young. Her hair was whiter than the snow outside, but most of it had been covered in red. One arm was limp still; dislocated according to Dr. Knox. She was tiny, fragile looking. Labored breaths came in and out in raspy draws. And the way her head lolled from side to side and her eyes seemed to swim in their sockets told Riza of serious head trauma. From the looks of the scene she'd left behind, Riza would imagine this woman to be some kind of powerful alchemist. Roy had lost his ability to transmute anything beyond his trademark flames. That fact had been kept secret, so no doubt the MPs would assume he had created the outcroppings.

Driving from the scene, she'd looked in her rearview mirror to see Roy standing tall, Havoc beside him. No evidence of his ordeal in his posture. And looking back, she caught sight of the young woman who'd been literally shoved into her care. She mumbled, saying Roy's name alongside slurred, panicked cries. Riza had tried to avoid potholes, but the few she couldn't made the girl yelp and inhale deep.

The front door opened and shut. Riza stood and quickly made her way to the end of the hall. Looking down the stairs, she saw Mustang and Havoc. The former looked up at her and pulled off his jacket. His uniform shirt had been cut at the sleeve and a thick white gauze was wrapped around his forearm. Other than that and a bruise to his forehead, he looked fine. She said nothing for a moment. They both made their way up the stairs to stand near her.

"Dr. Knox?"

"He's here. She's in your room."

He nodded and walked past her. She fell in line behind him. Havoc was the first to ask the obvious question.

"Who is she?"

Roy sighed, "She's a very dangerous alchemist."

"So you know her, then," Havoc assumed.

To that, Roy said nothing and only took up a stance next to his old war buddy. "What's the prognosis, Knox?" he asked.

The spectacled coroner grunted, "Good to see you, too. Few broken ribs. A nasty concussion. Dislocated arm. Bullet graze on her shoulder. Not to mention a bit of internal bleeding. Truthfully, she should be in a hospital."

"Will she survive without one?"

Knox inhaled and used his clean wrist to push his glasses back into place, "She will. She'll need plenty of bed rest and it'll be a week at least before her concussion clears up. I can't sedate her too heavily and she's no doubt going to be in a lot of pain. I haven't even reset her shoulder yet."

Mustang sighed, "No reason to wait any longer."

"You willing to hold her steady?"

The General hesitated. Hawkeye saw a flash of disdain when his jaw clenched. Was this woman still a threat even as she lay half-unconscious? With a relenting exhale, he looked to Havoc, "Help me hold her down."

Havoc sat at the foot of the bed and gently placed his hands on the girl's knees. Knox looked to Hawkeye, "Bring a compress. She'll need it."

Reaching into the medical bag the doctor had brought with him, she located the item and moved to the bathroom. She ran it under the water and wrung it out before she went back to the bed and sat next to Roy. The General held her down with one hand on her undamaged shoulder, the other interlacing his fingers with hers. She let out a pained whimper at even that slight disturbance. Her eyes locked onto Mustang's for a brief moment and Riza noticed a slight, pain-laced smile.

Mustang's voice was gruff, "This is going to hurt."

Her brow furrowed. Mustang nodded to the doctor. Riza readied the compress. Havoc steadied his grip. Knox grabbed her upper arm and shoulder and gave one quick, definitive twist and push. The woman cried out and gasped. Her hand knotted around Mustang's. Her back arched and her head was thrown back. She was sobbing between gasps of pain. Roy quickly stepped away and Riza slipped in to place the compress on her forehead; he didn't seem to care that her wail didn't stop. She spared him a glance over her shoulder and quickly realized that, whoever this woman was, Roy distrusted her. This wasn't a stranger, nor was this a friend. This woman had touched Roy in a way that made Riza anxious. Sharing a quick glance with Havoc, it was clear he was as shocked as she was by the cold behavior from the General. As the woman slowly calmed, Roy looked to Knox.

"Thank you. For taking care of her."

"Your Captain said you were attacked," Knox wiped his hands free of blood.

Mustang nodded, "We were."

"More terrorists, I assume?"

A simple nod was all Mustang offered. He was too busy eyeing the young woman. Whether it was the pain or exhaustion or a combination, her eyes drifted shut and her breathing leveled out. Roy's shoulders finally let go of the tension that made them square up and he let out a sigh.

"How did she get involved?" Knox asked.

"She just did," Mustang whispered.

"Paid a hefty price for it, too. You know, some time you and I will have to get together when you're not shoving half-dead victims into my care."

Mustang straightened and smiled thinly, "Until then, I'm grateful for the help."

Knox looked between Hawkeye and the General, "Uh-huh. On that note, I'm going to bed. Call me if her condition changes."

"I will."

Riza gave a little nod to the doctor and he returned it silently. He returned some used items to his medical bag and started off. Roy was silent for a moment, his dark eyes watching the sleeping woman. All Riza could do was watch him. She could see the pain in his features from his own wounds and the wounds this woman had suffered. His detached mask was gone, replaced by obvious concern and weariness. Seeing that he was preoccupied, she turned to leave the room.

"Captain…"

She faced him, halting, "Sir?"

"Will you two stay? For a while longer at least? I'd like to get cleaned up but I don't want her unsupervised. I'm sorry to ask…"

She looked to Havoc who nodded with her, "We'll stay."

"Help yourself to something, if you feel so inclined," he gestured to the sidebar at the far end of the room. He trod away to the adjoining bathroom, shelling his tarnished shirt and throwing it onto a wingback chair in the corner. Bare-chested, she could see scars and bruises. His skin was otherwise flawless. The door to the bathroom closed and she could hear the shower turn on.

Arms crossed over her chest, she let out a heavy sigh. Havoc nodded and smiled, "Never a dull night, huh?"

She shook her head, "So it would seem."

"She is a beauty, isn't she?" Havoc asked casually.

Riza nodded. Despite the blood, the woman was something to appreciate. Porcelain skin and cherubic features. She was petite, but not gangly. Sitting on the edge of the bed startled the young woman awake. Riza offered a gentle smile when those dark eyes landed on her.

"Roy…?" she whispered.

"He'll be back in a moment."

"You…you're…"

"My name is Riza."

The woman seemed to take some consolation in that and smiled, "The alchemist's daughter…," she spoke languidly. Riza felt her heart stop for a moment. She had always worked so hard to keep her parentage a secret. Not many knew of her father, nor of his influence on Roy. How this young woman had gleaned something Riza had buried…a gentle hand landed on her own. It was a warm, calming touch this young woman possessed.

"He was right. You are beautiful. No wonder he loves you."

Hawkeye could only stare blankly. Had she meant… But those eyes had already drifted closed again and her touch went slack. Few words had shattered Riza's composure so. Had the woman meant her father? The man who branded her and had never once shown her kindness in her life? A man she would just as soon forget? Or had she meant Roy? More importantly, had Roy told this woman about her? In the way Roy acted towards this white-haired woman, Riza could see an obvious distrust, so she doubted that. If he did love her, it was love he never betrayed. If she was honest to herself, Riza knew she loved Roy. She also knew he would never risk her life by making her more of a target than she already was by being his aide.

* * *

He slammed the door shut, the wood creaking and hinges rattling. He'd been so close! So close, that he could easily remember the scotch-and-smoke smell of that insufferable General. His perfect plan had been foiled and he'd lost good soldiers all because of dumb luck. He should've known that someone would care for that man as much as he hated him.

Chest heaving, shoulders rising and falling, he sat at his desk. Primitive. Only a little light on a string hanging from the bare rafters above. His jaw hurt he was clenching it so. Unraveling his fist, he grabbed for that little notebook. It was worn, the pages dirtied and thumbed-through. The corners of both the front and back cover were frayed and showed the wood beneath cloth. But, just holding it, he felt his jaw go slack. He opened it and that picture stared back at him. A woman. Three children. If he hadn't been writing down their names all this time, he might've forgotten them like he'd forgotten so much else. No. He couldn't forget. Not their names, not their faces. They were his mission.

Lauriana. Jayden. Jasmin. Thomas.

The woman was tall, slender. Red eyes, long and free white hair that ran in curled rivulets around her angular face. Jayden looked more like him. Blue eyes, muddy hair. Jasmin was a gorgeous, innocent copy of Lauriana in all except the eyes. Her eyes were blue, too. Thomas had inherited the red eyes, and the muddy hair. Such a perfect blend of a peaceful life.

 _Burned in their own home._

His fingers pushed past the picture to the first pages. It had all been so clear back then. The memories. The smells and thoughts they roused. Now...

He was lucky to even remember that he'd loved them so. He'd forgotten their names and could no longer recall them unless the picture was in front of him. That even was a cold consolation. He could look at the picture like a doctor might look at a case study. No ties. No feelings that stirred. Only his own handwriting reminded him of the memories he'd once had. He'd been a husband, a father. He'd been in love and happy and at peace.

Now he was just empty.

 _Singed black, bodies crumbling half to ash. Smelled the smoke, the decay, the putrid effect of time on the bodies._

His eyes scanned the pages, reading his own stories and still feeling like it must have happened to someone else. Not him. He only felt empty, not grief. Not loss.

The writing told another story.

* * *

Roy let the hot water roll down his aching back for another moment. Cleaned of grime and blood, he still felt dirty. And having that woman unconscious in his room reminded him that his life was about to get a lot more complicated. He turned the squeaky knob and the water died into an idle drip. He'd have to get that faucet fixed soon.

He pushed aside the curtain and stepped out, grabbing the nearest towel. Pulling his lounge pants on, he ran the towel over his mop of black hair and walked back out into his bedroom. Riza was at her side. When she looked at him, he swore he saw a tinge of red in her cheeks. Self conscious of the large puckered bit of scar on his right side from where Lust had stabbed him, he quickly grabbed a spare shirt from his closet and pulled it on, buttoning it up while he walked over.

"How is she?" he stood at the foot of the bed.

"She seems fine for now. Asleep."

He crossed his arms over his chest, "I'm sorry."

Havoc looked at him, "For what?"

"For getting you two involved. With this."

"Why?"

Breathing in deep, Roy looked at woman, "She's a fugitive. Her name is Amelie Rochester. And she's my sister."

Havoc chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, "Name sounds familiar..."

"The Soul Alchemist?" Riza asked quietly.

Roy nodded and Havoc looked with wide eyes to the sleeping woman; her name hadn't rung a bell, but that moniker did, "The alchemist who went crazy and killed soldiers just before Ishbal, right? Papers said she sold her soul to get so powerful."

"She must have been falsely accused...?" Riza questioned almost hopefully.

Roy shook his head, "I don't know how she got so powerful, but I do know she killed those men. She never told me why. I never asked. I honestly didn't think I'd see her again."

"Well, she has impeccable timing," Havoc mused aloud.

"Impeccable or not, it does raise suspicion. I doubt it was random," he shuffled on his feet and nonchalantly sighed, "I suppose I'll be using a sick day tomorrow, Captain."

Riza stood and gave him a sympathetic look, "You can't. You have to meet with Congress tomorrow morning."

Clenching his fists, Roy looked to his sister and couldn't think of a way out. His audience with Congress had been scheduled four months ago. Rescheduling was out of the question.

"Sir, I'm feeling a bit under the weather," Havoc gave a half-hearted cough, "I think the cold has gotten to me. It would probably be best if I didn't come into the office tomorrow."

Roy offered a mirthful smile, "A shame, really. But I supposed Fuery can handle your assignments for the day. In fact, you may want to stay here for the night. You look rather ill already."

"My bug out bag is still in the spare room. I should be good to go," Havoc turned to leave the room after Mustang afforded him a grateful nod.

Havoc departed with a sloppy salute and Roy was left alone with Riza and his sister.

"Why do you think she came back, sir?"

"I don't know. The last time we spoke, I didn't exactly welcome her with open arms."

"Well, I suppose we can figure that out tomorrow. I should be going. Unless you need me to stay…?"

Roy shook his head, "No. Go home and get some rest. I'm sure Congress won't go easy on me tomorrow and I'd hate to lose my biggest supporter," he offered a gentle smile.

She nodded and returned it, "Goodnight, General."

"Goodnight, Captain."

He didn't bother walking her out. He never did. She knew the way. And he always doubted himself. What if he couldn't let her leave? With a heavy sigh, he looked back to his sleeping sister. With Havoc in the spare room, and his bed occupied, he looked to the wingback study chair that had been covered with his shelled uniform and books from his study.

He made sure to bring the thick blanket up to his sister's chin and stared at her for a moment. For all their time apart, she still looked so young. And even with wounds that she'd gotten because of him, he didn't know if he felt guilty. She'd made her choices and he, his. Torn between the nagging desire to protect and exonerate her, and the overwhelming duty to distance himself from her, he slumped back into his comfortable, worn chair and pulled the crocheted quilt—a gift from Madame Christmas—up to his chest. The labored, wheezing sounds of his sister's pained breaths kept him company amid the silence of his conscience.


	3. Daybreak

**Daybreak**

The soft light streamed through curtains that he'd purposefully left open. The spare room had no alarm clock and he'd never been able to sleep in daylight anyways. Reaching into the bag, he switched from the military clothes he'd slept in to civilian clothes that had been packed in it. Splashing water on his face in the hallway water closet sent a shiver down his spine. The water from the pipes was nearly freezing cold. But, that shiver was welcome. It meant he woke again with working legs.

The sound of movement downstairs led him to the kitchen where he saw the General shuffling around while fully dressed in pressed Amestrian blues. Mustang looked over his shoulder at Havoc's approach and offered a practiced smile.

"G'morning, boss," Havoc allowed, "You sleep ok?"

"Not entirely. You?"

"Like a rock."

"I appreciate your willingness to keep an eye on her."

"Babysitting your sister is prob—"

Mustang cleared his throat, "You cannot refer to her as such. For many reasons."

Nodding, Havoc could see the tense jaw and stiff shoulders, "Understood, sir."

With a heavy sigh, Mustang looked up in Amelie's General direction, "She's dangerous, Lieutenant. At no time, for no reason, should you let her touch you. If she becomes violent, you are to defend yourself by any means necessary. Is that clear?"

"You think she'll be able to do any harm in her condition?"

"I don't know for sure that she can't, which means we all need to be on our guard. Her touch can kill. Don't take chances."

Seeing the fierce protectiveness in Mustang's eyes, Havoc gave another nod. For a silent moment, neither of them spoke. Inhaling deep, the General straightened and pulled his starched blue jacket down to make it sit right on his shoulders, "Help yourself to anything you'd like."

"Thanks."

"I'll see you this evening, then."

"Yes, sir."

Mustang left the kitchen and moved towards the front door. Hesitating when he passed the bannister of the stairwell, Havoc could see him think about going up, saying goodbye perhaps, when it was quickly squashed and he strode confidently out of the door and locked it behind him. Jean stole a look to the clock on the countertop. Mustang didn't have to be at work for another two hours, and Hawkeye hadn't been outside to pick him up, either.

The cold outside was easier to handle than that inside.

* * *

Black Hayate rushed appreciatively to the warm bowl of water that had been set out after the brisk morning walk. Watching the pup lap eagerly made Riza smile, and she turned back to her chore of preparing her day's lunch. With Roy meeting with Congress today, she doubted she'd have the time to step out for a bite. She tossed the scraps in the garbage and wrapped everything securely in cotton and twine. Hayate sat patiently. Her warm smile made his tail _thwap_ back and forth against the flooring.

"Don't worry, boy, we're going."

She pulled her bag to the bend of her elbow and latched the leash on Hayate. Her hand had just turned the doorknob and opened the door when the phone in the living room rang. She ignored it. No one ever really called her in the morning unless they were selling something. She let it ring and pulled her keys from her bag.

The third ring was cut short as her new machine picked up the line with a beep. Amused, she waited to hear the message, if any was even left.

" _Captain…shit, you must've already left…_ "

She'd crossed the room so quickly that Hayate canted his head to one side and stared at her when she picked up the headset, "I'm here, sir."

" _Oh, good. I just wanted to let you know that I walked in this morning, so no need to pick me up."_

 _"_ Of course, sir. Is everything all right, sir?"

" _Just needed to clear my head. Thank you, Captain. I'll see you at the office."_

 _"_ I'll see you there, sir."

The line softly cut off and she placed the headset back on the receiver. His townhome was at least a thirty minute walk to Central Command. After the boldness of last night's attack, she was a bit frustrated at his carelessness. Then again, having a fugitive and sister in his safe haven might have been too much to handle. His sanctuary had been invaded, and she knew he needed that rock to function. Sighing, she just hoped he kept his head about him when he met with Congress.

* * *

Jean Havoc watched the sleeping woman slowly come to. She blinked a few times, searched the room and focused on the curtains he had gently pulled back to let in the sunlight. While the General's warning rang fresh in his mind, he couldn't help but feel sympathy for her when her brow furrowed and pained tears strolled from the outer corners of her eyes to the curve of her ears. He'd been cognizant enough to wear his civilian clothes from his stashed bag rather than the spare uniform which laid neatly pressed next to them. He had no desire to end up like the soldiers who'd been killed by her in the past.

He cleared his throat and stood from the chair, placing his book on the armrest to save the spot he'd reached. She looked to him, her eyes slightly unfocused and her gaze continually swimming before aiming at him again.

"Who…?" she whispered.

"My name's Jean. I'm one of Roy's…friends," he omitted the 's' word for fear she would panic.

"Where...am I?" she asked gently.

"You're at Roy's townhome. In Central. Do you need anything? Water?"

She nodded languidly. He moved to the nightstand and poured out a cup of water from the decanter he'd filled earlier. She tried to sit up and failed, flopping heavily back to the pillow. Ignoring Mustang's warning, he sat on the bed and lifted her head, bringing the water to her lips. She drank tiny sips. He put the glass aside and let her back down to the pillow. Even that small kindness made her brow smooth out and those ink-dark eyes smile ever so slightly at him.

"Do you want something to eat?"

"I'll be ok. Where's Roy?"

"He had some things to take care of. He'll be back this evening."

She nodded with eyes half-closed and exhaled smoothly. For a woman who'd been reported to have killed a dozen men, she seemed timid. Still, Mustang wouldn't have warned him for no reason. Watching her drift back to sleep, he moved away and back to the recliner to pick up where he'd left off in the book he'd found.

* * *

The marble halls of the Congress building were cold even though Mustang was sure the heat was on full blast; even for the sweat that rolled down his back, he still felt frigid on the inside. His footsteps, and the footsteps of Hawkeye, resonated through the empty halls. For as busy as Congress was purported to be, the hallways seemed to be a ghost town. At the end of the hall, a single stone desk and a young man stood watch over an ornate set of oak doors.

Mustang straightened and didn't let the apprehension he felt on the inside transfer to his calm exterior. His mask of nonchalant detachment was something he had worked on for a long time and it hadn't failed him in recent memory.

The young man had auburn hair and glasses and was hunched over a book with a single quill stand on the desktop itself. No uniform, no rank, a civilian chosen to help this congress lead. Mustang stood for a moment and when the man ignored him, cleared his throat to gain his attention.

The man looked over the brim of his glasses and surveyed Mustang, "May I help you?"

"General Mustang; here to see Congress."

He gave a thin smile, "Acting General Mustang, if I'm not mistaken. And your appointment is for 10:15. It's only 10:06."

Mustang didn't return the practiced smile, "Better a few minutes early than a single minute late."

The man closed his book and returned the quill to its well, "Of course. I'll let them know. Please, wait here."

He stood from his desk and opened the left oak door, closing it behind him. Hawkeye came up next to him and lowered her voice, "Not very inviting."

"I didn't think it would be," he admitted.

The oak doors both opened and the man stood just inside, "Please, come in."

Mustang nodded and walked with Hawkeye just behind him. As he passed the threshold, the man stepped behind him and cleared his throat. Mustang turned to see him purposefully blocking Hawkeye's way.

"I'm afraid Congress has not permitted any spectators. You may wait out here," he said and Mustang could hear a slight bit of joy in his voice.

Hawkeye's cocoa eyes met his and he nodded. She stood down and turned to sit on the stone benches that lined the hallway. Turning his attention to the path ahead, Mustang heard the doors close behind him. The area darkened and, unlike the bright hallways which radiated with natural light, these passages felt tight and inky. Wood-paneled walls made it feel like a coffin he was walking into. The young man led him along without a word. The corridor had several small offices. None were open.

The grand atrium that rose before him was modest, but dim and imposing. Scanning the room, he saw Grumman and Mrs. Bradley sitting in box seats off to the right. A long desk with seven seats was in front of him, and the young man who'd ushered him in took the empty middle seat. Alone, in the middle of the room, was a single slab of stone that looked to be a bench.

"Please, have a seat," the young man gestured to it.

Roy remained standing, "I'm fine. Thank you."

He shed his black overcoat and placed it on the bench but remained stiff and poised. All seven of the congress members were ignoring him, writing on paper hidden from view by a lip on the desk. He remained quiet. He had heard that these men and women, while all hand-picked by Mrs. Bradley and Fuehrer Grumman to help run the country, were not the most friendly folk in said country.

"Acting General Mustang, you have been called here today because your promotion, given by then-General Grumman, was placed under review by this Congress. Some feel you are too young, and your service record too spotty, to be leading anything more than a soup line at a shelter."

The young man paused in his goading opening statement, and Mustang remained silent. He had been under scrutiny before, and had seen the tactic of trying to make him defensive. At his prolonged silence, the man exhaled and continued, "You've acted recklessly; getting your subordinates injured in the line of duty and causing an immense amount of collateral damage in your search for a personal vendetta."

A woman, blonde hair and green eyes, offered a small smile, and quickly jumped in, "This Congress is not here to pass judgement on events which happened before. While there may be doubt as to your ability, you have garnered support and trust from both Mrs. Bradley and Fuehrer Grumman. They say you acted preemptively to save the First Lady's life when the coup was attempted."

"I did, Congresswoman."

"Do you believe your actions were justified, Mustang?" another man asked. His hair was white and his voice pegged him as a smoker, "Why not bring your suspicions to the attention of Fuehrer Bradley?"

"I do. As far as confiding in Fuehrer Bradley, I had no such luxury. He unexpectedly left for the joint training exercise before I could inform him of my discovery."

"In your debriefing after the events last year, you said that those responsible for the coup had tried to harness alchemy on a grand, weaponized scale without the knowledge or discipline of a true alchemist. You've also recently said that the weaponizing of state alchemists should be scaled back. Interesting idea coming from the Hero of Ishbal; you and many other state alchemists were nothing more than weapons then. Yet your affinity for the state alchemist program has bolstered it's numbers since. Care to explain?" the young man asked.

"The creed has always been: 'Be Thou For The People'. If we are to be true to this creed, it only makes sense that we show the people what we can do beyond warfare. Medical alchemy, teaching, rebuilding. These are actions which benefit everyone, not just the military."

"Should Congress see fit to uphold this promotion, you will be directly in control of the State Alchemist program due to that rank. How do you plan on running such an operation? You're only one man," the youngest man said with a bit of dripping condemnation.

"There are other alchemists, more qualified than myself, to oversee engineering and medical alchemy. With my experience, I intend to train any and all alchemists who wish to join the military and fight to protect this country."

"Protect it from what?"

"Anyone who would threaten its freedoms, or the freedoms of its citizens. All of its citizens."

Several of the congress members gave him little smiles, and another woman at the very end of the desk leaned forward a bit. He continued to stand rigid. A few of them went back to writing notes out of sight. The man with auburn hair who had escorted him in inhaled and exhaled heavily. He could no doubt see that the majority of those present didn't harbor the same malcontent as he did.

"You indeed speak as a man of the people. And perhaps this country could use more of that. I've heard enough. I move to make your promotion permanent."

"I second," the elder man with white hair nodded.

The young man exhaled sharply, "It has been moved and seconded that we vote on the permanent promotion of Colonel Roy Mustang to Brigadier General Roy Mustang. We will divide. All in favor, please stand."

Roy held his breath for a moment. The eldest lady at the end of the desk stood and folded her hands behind her back. Roy offered a slight nod and she returned it. The blonde woman stood as well. So did the elder man with the white hair. Another, who had been silent, a man with spectacles and a red beard, stood. Four. A majority. Another young woman stood up. Her hair was also blonde, but short.

Roy quietly let loose the breath he'd held in. With four in favor, it had been approved. With five, he could allow himself to smile ever so slightly.

The young man in the middle lowered his gaze for a moment and nodded, "Very well. With a majority vote, you are hereby permanently promoted to the rank of Brigadier General, with all the rights and privileges therein."

Roy almost had a chance to speak. Before he could, he heard a throat clear off to the right. He and the congress looked over to see Grumman stand and smile.

"Sir, you wish to address the Congress?" the young man asked.

"I wish to appoint General Mustang to the task of finding these terrorists who call themselves the Republic. I want them found, and brought to justice. Do you think you're up for it, General?" Grumman smiled.

Roy nodded, "I am, sir."

"Good. I don't believe I need a majority approval to make that appointment?" he looked to the congress members who sat before him.

The young man offered a slight smile, "No, sir."

"Good. I will approve whatever personnel transfers you need, Mustang. Get me these terrorists in jail cells. And, unless there are any other matters…?"

The young man shook his head and kept his gaze averted from Mustang's.

"Splendid. Then get on with it," Grumman smiled.

Mustang saluted the older man, and quickly turned his back on the congress. Walking away, he couldn't help but smile. Moving past the closed doors that seemed insignificant compared to the ornate oak ones at his front, he stepped back out into the brightness that waited for him. Hawkeye stood and waited for him to be closer. Her eyes asked the question she didn't dare let pass her lips.

He gave a cocked smile, "You may continue addressing me as 'General'. And your grandfather has put me in charge of snuffing out the Republic."

Only her eyes gave away her happiness, "He is a wise man. And congratulations."

"Let's celebrate after we find who attacked us last night."

Hawkeye lowered her voice confidentially, "The coroner's office called Fuery. They said the autopsies are complete. Shall we start there?"

"Sounds like a plan."

"Fuery said the coroner was…distressed…by the carnage."

Mustang straightened his shoulders and started walking down the hall, his Captain stepping in line next to him, "Perhaps I should check in on my patient before we go."

"Of course, sir."

* * *

Jean Havoc continued to read. Amelie's whimpers and broken thoughts weren't annoying, but troubling. He'd rather not hear all of them as she murmured about a man who had to be avoided, about losing control, about death and fear. She'd come to long enough once or twice asking for water, but had otherwise been in a restless, fevered sleep or delusional twilight. He looked up from his book to see her head roll from side to side as she continued to ramble.

Earlier, she'd looked to him with those pained, deep eyes, and begged for him to fetch Maes or Roy. The insight that she'd known the late Brigadier General made his heart break for her all over again; she had no one to comfort her besides him at the moment. Her own mind recognizing her solitude, she cried and mourned for Maes anew. The question she asked, ' _Did he ever get my letters?_ ', he had no answer to and it hurt him almost as it did her. Unbidden, he'd taken her hand and sat with her until she'd drifted back into some semblance of solid sleep.

The front door unlocked and closed quickly. Havoc put the book aside and made sure the safety was off on his firearm. Moving silently from the chair to the wall that would be hidden from view as the bedroom door opened, he waited.

"Havoc?" Mustang called out.

Putting his sidearm away, he opened the bedroom door to see Mustang standing there.

With a half-smile, he stepped aside, "So, how do I address you?"

"General will continue to suffice. How is she?" he turned his attention to Amelie.

Havoc sighed and rubbed the base of his neck, "She's been in and out all morning. Rambling on."

"Rambling about what?"

The business-like concern reminded Havoc of the strain the relationship between brother and sister had sustained; he didn't want to mention Maes. That was a burden the General didn't need, "She kept saying not to let 'him' touch us. That the blood runs too deep to be cleaned out. Kinda spooky, actually."

"Keep track of everything she says. Write it down if you have to. She wasn't there last night out of coincidence. She knows something about these terrorists."

"Yes, sir."

"Has she threatened you?"

"No. No, she's just been delirious."

"If you feel threatened, remember, defend yourself. She is a murderer. I won't have you killed on my watch."

Nodding silently, Havoc watched as his superior swallowed glass in those words. They both raised their eyes towards her when she whimpered again.

"Roy…"

Mustang inhaled deep and squared his shoulders, "I need to be going. I've been put in charge of getting these terrorists in jail. I'll be back this evening."

"Yes, sir."

He turned to leave and took two steps towards the door.

"Brother…"

Havoc watched his gait halt ever so slightly. He fought with the instinct to look over his shoulder at his sister and pointedly left the room. Again, Havoc felt a slight pang of sympathy. Turning his gaze to the white haired woman, he sat on his chair across the room and readied a pen and a piece of paper.

The room felt colder than it had a moment ago and he shivered before pulling a throw over his lap. Eyes watching the sleeping woman as she tossed and turned, he still couldn't believe she was the murderer the papers all said she was. Evidently, Mustang did.

* * *

He was tense. Tense and distracted. Two things that would only hinder his goals. With a fugitive in his home, he risked more than just a charge for aiding and abetting. It would ruin his career and likely bring down everything he had worked for over the past thirteen years. He walked back to the black car and slid into the passenger seat calmly.

Hawkeye had seen her superior tense before. The subject matter was new, however.

"You never mentioned you had a sister," she said softly.

His eyes were watching the scenery as she started the short drive to the coroner's office. If he chose to answer or if he didn't, she would accept that. The snow on the roads had turned dingy and sloshed under the car tires. Still, the untainted winter beauty stretched across yards and parks thickly enough that children were tossing snowballs at one another.

"My mother died when I was three. My father sent me to live with his sister, Madame Christmas. When I was seven, we got word that he was dying and when we went to visit, that's when I found out I had a sister. He was driving his new wife to the hospital when she was in labor. He lost control of the car and they wrecked. She died, but they were able to save the little girl. He died from his wounds a few days later and Amelie came to live with us."

* * *

 _She was red and wrinkled, pudgy and altogether not at all what he'd imagined a baby would look like. While other newborns were crying in the room, she was silent. Her little fists were balled up tight next to her face. That white hair which came out in tufts from under the beanie cap was matted against her angry-tomato skin. Looking around, Roy realized he was the only person who was alone watching a child. Others had come to peer through the viewing window; they had siblings, parents, grandparents...but he was alone to greet this new child._

 _A nurse walked over to her rolling crib and tightened the blanket which was wrapped around her. Smiling at Roy, she pointed to the locked door a few feet away. Dumbly, he walked there and waited. She opened it for him and softly introduced herself. Roy couldn't pay attention. He was too focused on that red little ball of family._

 _"Do you want to hold her?" she asked._

 _Roy nodded without saying anything. The nurse led him closer to the scant crib. She picked the baby up and held her loosely while Roy tried to mimic the cradle. That little red human being cooed and opened her wet eyes. Roy couldn't say she was looking at him, but she didn't seem to be looking anywhere else. She let out another tiny sigh and whimper, closing her eyes against the brightness of the hospital lights._

 _"See? She already knows her brother," the nurse smiled._

 _"Can I name her?" Roy asked._

 _The nurse looked pained, like she'd been hit with something, but smiled a moment later, "I think she would like that. You're her family now."_

 _Roy studied her, looked her up and down. He couldn't see if she had extra toes or other weird things since she was wrapped up in the blanket. That would've made him really unsure about naming her. Again, she cooed and opened her eyes ever so slightly to look at him. He smiled back at her - he liked that she liked him. Maybe once she stopped being so little, they could have fun together._

 _"I'm going to name her Amelie."_

 _The nurse smiled, "I think that's a perfect name. She's your little sister - your little Amelie. She'll need you to watch out for her, okay?"_

 _Roy nodded, "Oh, I will. I'll make sure to keep her super safe."_

* * *

Riza remained quiet. Her commanding officer had gone silent and his gaze was on things that were playing in his mind. She'd seen that nostalgic look before. She knew better than to interrupt it. She just drove onwards, unsure of what unpleasant duties would face them. Riza hadn't taken the time to see much of Amelie's work the night before, but Roy's nervous rubbing of his thumb and middle finger didn't go unnoticed. It wasn't strong enough to make sparks, but the fabric still made a familiar sound.

"She's been rambling about being touched," Roy said quietly, without a lead in.

"What does that mean to you?"

He sighed, "The last time I saw her, she almost killed me, and Maes, just by touching us. It felt like being burned alive on the inside. We couldn't breathe. Maes was convulsing when he went down. And now, she's rambling about not letting someone touch us. Ironic."

"The man last night…he didn't have any weapons in his hands when he reached for you," she recalled.

Mustang straightened slightly but remained quiet.

"Perhaps she's found someone more dangerous than herself," Riza continued.

"Perhaps."

"If she's here, could it be because of the terrorists?"

"It's likely. Whether she's going to be a boon or a burden, time will tell."

He became quiet again and she didn't broach the topic. He would talk more of it when and if he wanted to. For now, she focused on the task at hand. She pulled the car into a designated spot at the bland building. Mustang was out first and she followed a step behind. Walking through the double doors of the morgue, he nodded to the doctors who were pulling gloves from their hands.

"General Mustang, it's been a while since we've seen you here."

"A shame it couldn't be a while longer. You sent word that the autopsies were complete?"

"Do you wish to see the bodies while we go over the report?"

Mustang shook his head, making Riza silently grateful, "I've already seen enough of them."

The younger doctor nodded and picked up a notepad filled with scribbles, "Yes, I can imagine. From the looks of it, you're still getting used to transmuting something other than flame, correct?"

Mustang nodded, allowing the false notion to continue. He didn't mind that everyone thought him more adept than he was. Just made his goal easier to obtain in the end.

"Well, whatever you did, I wouldn't recommend doing it again. There were nine men, two women. It seems all of them underwent a sudden boiling of their blood at the same time their skin froze. The skin contracted, the blood expanded, the organs melted, their eyeballs were forced from the sockets, and we were left with very little soft tissue to work with. It seems their bone marrow hardened; their bones were shattered in the process from the internal pressure."

Riza couldn't help but clench her fist at her side, the visual worse knowing it had come from Mustang's sister. A thick swallow kept the bile in her throat from rising.

With a detached nod, Mustang sighed, "Can you tell me where they came from? Anything about them before I went a little overboard?"

"We looked for dental records. Nothing. No way of knowing their names, but they were from all different areas, all from outside Amestris. Xingese, Drachmans, Ishbalans. What little soft tissue we did get helped us identify their country of origin. From the lack of dental records, we can safely say they didn't come into Amestris legally. One of them was probably only thirteen or fourteen."

"Anything else you can surmise?"

The doctor only shook his head and looked back to his notes, "There's not much else beyond that."

"I appreciate the information."

Mustang turned briskly and Riza tried to keep up. His faster-than-normal pace made her double step to stay in stride without breaking into a light jog. Without a word, he stepped into a men's restroom. She stayed outside and faced away. While her own stomach had been tied in knots from the beginning of the descriptions, she doubted even Mustang could hold down any food after hearing the last bit. His soft spot for children had always been obvious to her.

Taking the blame for the deaths was one thing. Knowing it was his sister was quite another. Worse still, she'd done it to protect him, and Riza knew that he would blame himself for their deaths even if they had attacked him. He could have done less damage, left them alive, and still gotten them all out of the situation. Yet, his sister had intervened.

He emerged a moment later from the restroom and she noticed the sweat at his hairline. His stone face was unshakeable.

"Let's get back to Command. I need to make some transfer requests."

"Of course, sir."

* * *

Shafts of light and flurries of snow drifted down from the ragged slits in the ground above. Trucks were busy being loaded with explosives. The masked masses were treading lightly for the volatile cargo they handled. Many of them recognized her as she walked by, even with her cover on. Perhaps it was the single curl of red hair that hung down from under the head wrap she wore. Maybe it was her height, or maybe the way she carried herself. No matter how they knew, she was glad they did. They made room for her. Some even nodded in acknowledgement. But she made no such motions. Walking across the cavern floor to the stairwell, she climbed up to the platform overlooking the huge underground atrium. Roderick was already there, waiting.

"News?" he asked.

"It's been confirmed that Flame's promotion was upheld. Brigadier General now. He was put in charge of hunting us down."

Without being able to see his face, she could tell he was smiling, "Good. Makes finding him again easier, especially if he's looking for us. Any word on the girl?"

"None. We have no idea who she is. She didn't match the profile of any State Alchemist. I suspect Flame took her in," she ventured.

"Which may make our task easier. Or harder. Keep an eye on him. We must be ready to press an advantage if there is one."

She nodded and began to walk away. At the top of the stairs, he called to her.

"And, Naomi, tell Ren and his group to prepare. When we are able to capture the Flame, they'll be the best equipped to deal with his troubling affliction."

"Of course," she smiled before continuing to descend down the stairs.

She marveled at the numbers before her. The past year, Roderick had bolstered their cause and brought more than a thousand new recruits to their door. Many had lost hope before he'd come into the picture. While she had never doubted the cause, seeing what he could do only made her fight all the harder for it.

Walking into her private, modest room, she pulled the head wrap away from her face and slowly shed the tattered layers of clothes. With a bit of fresh water left in the washbowl, she splashed her face and wiped away the day. Her reflection echoed to her. Wavy red hair fell in ringlets, pulled back into a barely-manageable braid. Bright green eyes were tired. Still, she had work to do. Stepping away from the cracked vision of herself, she reached into the armoire and pulled out her civilian clothes.

Dressed to blend into the streets of Central, she left her safe haven and made her way to the tunnels which connected to the more populated areas of the bustling city. The labyrinth of echoing stone and dank mustiness was as easy to navigate to her as the streets in the sunlight above. She climbed a vertical ladder and came up into a small back room of a restaurant in Central's financial district. The owner was sympathetic. The tiny room was only big enough for one to fit in at a time, but gave her and her own an easy access directly to the city.

She casually walked out through patrons and waiters to the snow-streets. It was a little after midday and the snow had started to melt a bit in the brightness. She didn't bother covering her face or her features. She had lived in this city her whole life. Witnessed the corruption and the devastation brought down from above.

Her feet led her on while her mind continued to wander. Children were still in school for the day, but a few of the youngest were fighting with snowballs gathered in courtyards. Their shrieks and indignant squeals made her smile. She remembered when she and her brother were just as carefree. Twins as they were, they'd been inseparable and she could remember a few times when that connection had been more a curse than a blessing - especially when she'd started dating. A random memory that he always claimed to be older by twelve minutes meant he had to approve of her boyfriends…and the one time he hadn't, she'd given him a bloody nose.

Things had changed drastically over the past two years. For a fleeting moment, she wished fervently they hadn't.

Roy Mustang's flat appeared at the top of her mindless view and she veered to the side street and the abandoned apartment at the top of the complex. Roderick needed this man for the cause, and she would be the one to deliver him.

* * *

Her polished shoes on the marble floors were lost about the din. While she usually packed her lunch and ate at her desk to get ahead on paperwork and keep an eye on the wayward General, today she and Black Hiyate took a walk through the rebuilt hallways. There were no signs of the struggle. No walls that had been left scarred. Everything had been rebuilt, mostly by the alchemists who'd joined the legendary Hero of Ishbal and the Fullmetal Alchemist in the last fight against the remaining government officials.

It had been hell. Idly rubbing her throat, she walked onwards. She would eat her sandwich when she came back from her errand.

A thundering sound and a quick shriek made Riza push through a double door to the office behind it. The displaced pile of fallen books made her smile and she took the hands which were trying to clamber their way out. With a gentle tug, the poor soul was pulled from the heap. Shieska winced and adjusted her glasses and smiled to see the Captain in front of her.

"Oh, Miss Hawkeye! Thank you," she gave an embarrassed smile.

Riza returned it, "Are you all right?"

"Fine. Just the normal," she crouched down to start the tedious task of placing the books back on the toppled bookshelf. Riza righted the lightly colored wooden piece of furniture before kneeling down next to the young woman.

"I need your help, Shieska," Riza said without preamble.

"Of course! What can I do?"

"I need all documents and files on a woman named Amelie Rochester. Discreetly, if possible."

Shieska placed several books on the bottom shelf and pinned Riza with a look, "They're all classified…"

"That's never stopped you before."

Shieska smiled, "It might be a few days. But I can get it to you."

"Thank you. As always."

"No problem. And thanks…for the help," she looked to the mess before her.

"Would you like me to stay?"

"Oh, that's all right. I have my own organizing system…"

"Of course. Well, until I see you, then."

Shieska nodded happily and continued to place her books back where she fancied they belonged. With Black Hiyate in tow, Riza made her way back through corridors and crowds. Seeing the double doors to the General's office guarded by two of the Fuehrer's guards, she smiled inwardly to think her grandfather had stopped by to congratulate Roy on his upheld promotion.

The two silent men barely registered her and she walked in to see exactly what she expected.

Her grandfather and Roy were locked in a game of chess. It seemed that her superior was losing and she cleared her throat while closing the door behind her.

Grumman turned in his seat and smiled warmly, "Ah, Riza! Come, come! Roy might need your help on this - I've backed him into a pickle."

Pulling her sandwich from her desk drawer, she moved closer to the game and saw that, while not yet in check mate, Roy wasn't far from defeat. She studied the pieces and the layout. As a young girl, in an attempt to avoid her own father, she'd turned to her grandfather and many an evening were spent in this battle of wits.

She casually reached out and moved a bishop. Roy's brow furrowed ever so slightly and Grumman gave a little chuckle. Moving away from the table to let Roy see the favor she had done him, she bit into her sandwich silently and resumed paperwork which wasn't due for another few weeks.

"So, on the topic of these terrorists: you were attacked last night I hear?" Grumman asked.

"I was."

"They're growing bolder by the day."

"They'll make a mistake. They're growing overconfident."

"You think?"

"I know it."

"And you've thought of a team to help flush them out?" the Fuehrer asked before moving a piece to compensate for Riza's intervention.

Roy studied the board and Riza watched intently, wondering if he would see the opening, "I have," he allowed.

His gloved fingers moved a pawn and Riza rolled her eyes, unable to watch the soon-to-be-massacre any longer.

"Well, get their names to me this afternoon. I'll sign off on them."

"I have them now, sir."

He handed over the slip of paper with his handwritten notes on it. Her grandfather looked it over and smiled in approval. His brow furrowed on one part of the note, and his wizened eyes rose to meet Mustang's.

"He's not a state alchemist anymore. What makes you think he'll follow orders?"

Roy smiled, "Curiosity."


	4. Gone

**Gone**

The heat of the sun was a welcome feeling against the chilled air. While most of the country was covered in an abnormal amount of snow, Rush Valley had escaped becoming a frozen tundra. It was cold, but not cold enough. For that, Alphonse Elric was grateful. He could wear a jacket and feel the sun warm it against his skin. Walking along the main thoroughfare of the city, the smells of automail oils and freshly baked good mixed together in a quixotic sense of home. Dinza, the shop keep who made his favorite sweet rolls, waved as he walked by. He smiled and waved back. A metallurgist from across town trot by and bid him to say 'hi' to Winry.

Coming to a rest at Winry's shop, he walked through the display cases and patrons to get to the back room. His brother, with a plateful of apple pie, looked up at him.

"Thought you were on your way to class," he swallowed his bite and offered Al a slice of his own.

"I am. Just wanted to stop by. Some of the students asked for your autograph, so here I am," he smiled.

"I'm no State Alchemist anymore," Ed reluctantly signed some bits of paper before handing them off to his younger brother.

"Alchemist or not, they read about all you did."

"All we did."

"Either way, they asked. With the winter break coming up, they want souvenirs to show their families."

Al peeked around the doorframe to the bustling shopfront. The few associates were taking orders and setting appointments. Winry was nowhere in sight.

"She's doing a fitting," Ed supplied, guessing the question which had formed in Al's mind, "Thought I'd slip back here and get a piece of pie."

"You know she'll knock you upside the head if you spoil your appetite for dinner."

" _Pfft_ , she'll get over it. I'll just compliment her on the cooking to get outta the doghouse," he smiled.

Alphonse rolled his eyes and bit into his own slice of the warm heaven on a plate. Winry had been kind enough to make some sort of sweet pastry for him almost every month. Not that it lasted that long, but he was grateful for it each time it was made. The comfortable silence was a welcome contrast to the bustle of the busy shop, and Al finished his piece with a contented sigh. He could feel satiated, calm. He could feel the draft that came through when another patron left the shop.

Over a year now, and he still loved each sensation.

The sound of uneven, thundering footsteps caught his attention. Paninya ran over to them, carrying a crumpled piece of yellow paper. She was smiling ear to ear and handed the telegraph over to Edward.

"This just came for you from Central," she explained.

His brother looked it over and Al saw a familiar grin on his face, "Brother?" he asked.

"Looks like that bastard has some dirty work he needs done."

"General Mustang? With what?"

"He doesn't say. Just says there's a chance to knock some heads together."

* * *

Riza put the car in park, the engine sputtered to silence and the softly falling snow started to gather on the hood. Neither she nor her General moved. The faintest of lights was on inside, but that was the only indication of life. She never removed her hands from the wheel. Never made eye contact. Only waited.

His gloved hand she could see out of her peripheral vision reached for the latch. It hung on that metal like a live wire. His shoulders came up before dropping back down.

"Can you come in and help me get her settled for the night?"

"Of course, sir."

Tasked with a mission finally, she exited the vehicle and followed in line behind him after he left the confines of the car. They made it inside and she placed her thick jacket on the coat tree by the door. He mindlessly snapped to stoke the kindling in the fireplace to life. The warm flames lit up his sparse living room with golden red light. More soft footfalls and Havoc appeared at the top of the stairs.

The General straightened, "Any news?"

"No. I've taken as many notes as I could, but she just kept talking in circles while she slept. Asked about you and…really just you," he sauntered down the stairs.

Roy nodded, "I appreciate you keeping an eye on her."

Havoc handed off the notebook he'd used throughout the day, "She's the easiest charge you've given me in a while."

"Still, not a word. We don't yet know why she's here."

"Of course, sir. You need me to stay again tomorrow?"

"No. I don't want to arouse suspicion. She'll be fine on her own for the day."

"Yes, sir."

Giving a cordial nod and smile to her, he pulled on his own coat and left; his flat wasn't too far away and the night was young. She didn't doubt he'd stop by a pub or cafe before turning in for the evening.

"Would you care for some tea?" the General asked softly.

"Yes, please."

"If you need to go, I understand."

"Hiyate will be fine. I let him out before I drove to Command to pick you up."

"Still, it's not your responsibility."

"It is my privilege, then."

Seeing the way he hesitated before walking towards the kitchen, she unbuttoned her top two clasps on her blue uniform and offered a small smile, "Let me start changing her bandages and see if she feels strong enough to get washed up. I'll be back down for the tea when it's ready."

His stoney face softened, "Sounds like a plan."

They parted ways and she opened the door to his room to see soft light filtering through the sheer curtains. Amelie was moving about, reaching for a decanter of water by the bedside although even that small exertion was obviously painful to her. Her porcelain brow was furrowed; small beads of sweat ran from her hairline to her jaw.

"Let me help you."

She collapsed back onto the pillow and nodded, "Thank you."

Riza handed her the cup and took it back when she was done with it. The young woman offered a small smile, weak and disarming.

"Roy?"

"He's downstairs making tea. I came up to help you. I can change your bandages. If you're up for it, we can get you into the tub to at least rinse off."

Only a feeble nod and a shuffling of blankets was all the permission Riza received. Using stock Doctor Knox had left behind, she tended to the wounds and changed out gauze wrappings. Amelie was quiet, although her labored breathing still concerned her. In a delicate balance of being diligent and allowing Amelie to retain her dignity, Riza undressed her partially and replaced bandages before covering her back up to begin the process anew on another area of obvious injury.

"Thank you," Amelie whispered.

"You're welcome."

"My brother is lucky to have you in his life."

Riza focused intently on the stitches she was tending to, "I fulfill whatever duties the General requires."

"I see."

"Can you make it to the water closet on your own?"

"I don't think so. The room is still spinning more than staying still."

Standing and wrapping an arm around the woman's light frame, she guided her to the bathroom. Unsurprisingly, Amelie wobbled and nearly fell more than once during the short distance. Switching on the light in the small tiled room, Riza sat her in the tub. Watching her struggle with removing her clothes, Riza moved closer.

"I can help if you need it?"

The young woman nodded, "I suppose a good thing about being a test subject is you lose all modesty."

Unsure of how to respond, Riza remained quiet and assisted her. Her skin was bruised, bloody, and even with the fresh bandages, was tell-tale evidence of the encounter the night before. Drawing some hot water into the basin, barely enough to cover the bottom, Amelie slowly dabbed herself down with a sponge to purge the caked blood from her body. There was a fragile determination in her actions. Whatever this young woman had gone through before last night, it had been enough to mould her into a resilient being. Those eyes were the same as Roy's; they had a similar weariness in them that she saw in his during Ishbal.

They passed the moments in silence. In reaching out for the drain cover, Amelie retracted her arm and let out a hissing inhale of pain. Riza let the water from the basin and handed the woman a towel. Barely wet but free from clotted blood, it didn't take long to be dry enough to replace the clothes she'd shed. She stumbled getting out of the tub.

"You should lay back down."

"Good plan."

Riza helped her back to the bed and slowly let her down before covering her with the thick quilt. The exertion had been enough to weaken her. The Captain watched as she slowly drifted off, a few whimpers and murmurs breaking through the oncoming sleep.

She jerked awake and looked back at Riza, "Tell Roy I stayed hidden as long as I could."

Riza only nodded. Some weight lifted from her small frame, Amelie drifted away. Turning away, the Captain left the room and closed the door gently behind her. She walked down the stairs and rounded the volute towards the kitchen. Roy was sitting at the small table, hunched over the notebook Havoc had left behind. The whistle of the kettle had just become loud enough to hear yet he remained motionless. She turned off the flame and softly poured the rolling water into the two mugs he'd laid out; each had a silver ball full of leaf and fruit in them.

Only when she placed one in front of him did he look up from the scrawled notes on the ivory pages.

"Thank you."

"Of course."

"Just reading the notes Havoc took."

"Anything interesting?"

"Disturbing more than interesting."

She blew over the steaming tea and waited for him to collect his thoughts. The grandfather clock in the living room chimed softly.

"She was rambling about touching the Gate. About the Gate touching back."

"The Gate? Where you lost your eyesight?"

He nodded, "It was white there, with a white figure. No face, no features, and a huge black set of doors. They opened and dragged me in."

"When did she see the Gate? Her alchemy is more advanced than anything you or Edward could ever do."

"I don't know. There's a lot I don't know."

"I know the feeling," she allowed.

He gave a self-deprecating, lopsided smile, "I'm sorry I never told you."

"You can tell me now, if you want."

Roy closed the notebook and wrapped his aching hands around the warm cup Hawkeye had placed in front of him. Those two wounds had never healed perfectly and the cold wasn't making things easier for him. Staring through the tinted water, he sighed.

"Amelie never studied alchemy, never even saw it, until a State Alchemist boarded with us at Madame Christmas' for a few days. She must've been four or five and she pulled off a transmutation. I think I was jealous. That's when I started seeking out your father. A few months after that, another State Alchemist showed up and offered to tutor Amelie. She was so excited. She just wanted to learn. Off they went to Central to study at some prestigious State Alchemist's home. I didn't hear from her for years. I continued to study. Joined the academy. And then the Fuehrer signed Decree 3066."

"You never thought to look for her?"

"Before I left, I tried, but my letters were returned unopened. Then, a month after I left for Ishbal, I got a letter from Madame Christmas. There was a manhunt for her. The papers said she'd obliterated more than a half-dozen soldiers who'd been ordered to capture her. No explanation why she went from student to fugitive, just a mission to find her and lock her up."

* * *

 _Her bed was warm; the room, quiet. She'd found it easier to sleep now that she wasn't in some government-run house. Knowing that, when she woke up, she wouldn't be forced to use alchemy. But she still didn't like being left alone. She wished, like the sun and the moon and stars, that her big brother had managed to leave the army before this. She could feel the evil beneath her feet. She could feel the rotten core of Central's gleaming heart. But he had chosen to pursue alchemy._

 _Maybe he could use it for true good._

 _The door slammed open, guns pointing at her. She sat there, half-poised, in shock while they shouted at her. Her heart was jumping hard against her chest. She could hear it even over the yells and orders of the soldiers facing her._

 _One of them approached her. A middle-aged, spectacled man with gold-capped teeth who she was sure she'd seen at that god-forsaken place. Black hair, graying at the temples. Crazed, weary eyes that spoke of misguided dreams. She shook her head silently, begging wordlessly for them to just leave._

 _"You gave us quite the run," the man said._

 _She judged distances. How far, how fast, how quick. She could outrun them if she was out in the open. Hide because she knew this countryside better than they did._

 _She bolted, the back door not more than a dozen feet away. The moment she got her hands around the handle, a large hand clamped down on hers. She froze. She could sense the body heat of the man behind her. She could feel his breath as it ran down her neck._

 _"I don't want to be an alchemist," she whimpered, voice so meek she could barely even hear it herself._

 _"You're not an alchemist, child. You're a weapon."_

 _She welded her eyes shut. With one heave, she tried to joggle his grip on the door handle and throw it open. She just had to get outside, to the open fields..._

 _He took his grip from the handle only to throw the door open himself, surprising her. The edge of the door clipped her face and she fell back, blood on her front. She held her nose, blood dripping between her fingers. Laying on the floor, she crawled away from the one man only to feel the barrel of a gun at her back. She'd thought..._

 _The man approached her, offering his hand to her, "Now, let's get that nose cleaned up. You've got to look perfect for the Fuehrer."_

 _She ignored the guns behind her. Ignored the man in front of her. She wasn't about to let them take her back._

 _Kill a few to save more. She could do that. She could rationally say that she had been attacked. They weren't here to help her, weren't here to protect her. They were here to use her as a weapon. They wanted to make her kill._

 _So, she would kill._

* * *

"She found me. A letter. Nothing more. She wrote that she'd done what she had to do. She talked about leaving, going somewhere the government couldn't find her. And I...I never wanted to know more. Because it meant putting my career at risk. She'd been labeled a traitor. They called her the Soul Alchemist. I got the headlines. And maybe that was when I hated her. Truly hated her. What she did to those soldiers...It was the same as she did to those terrorists; disfigured and maimed corpses that were barely identifiable, even with the military's records."

* * *

 _The man afore her backed away and ran. The soldiers behind her screamed. She wasn't sure what she was doing, or how she was doing it, but she knew they were dying. She could feel the peace of alchemy as the energy rippled through her. Her body calmed. She felt tranquil. She felt the beauty of eternity, how it called to her. The ability she'd always had was more obvious. She knew, instinctively, that this was taboo. What she was doing. But her mind and body felt at peace even if her heart broke in two for those who were losing their lives._

 _Opening her eyes, she saw nothing but white. She touched her nose, found it healed, and looked around. There wasn't anyone._

 _"Oi!"_

 _She spun. Where a moment ago had been no one, a white figure now lounged, looking at her without eyes. The voice was a cacophony of sounds. Not one voice, but all voices._

 _She stared at it, "Where are we?"_

 _"You should know. You've been here before."_

 _She shook her head, speechless._

 _"That mortal brain really does limit you, doesn't it? You don't remember a single thing."_

 _"What are you talking about?"_

 _"Your mother."_

 _Her brow furrowed. Black stone doors materialized softly and opened to show a golden beauty beyond. Transfixed, she moved closer to the warmth she could feel on her skin. It was mesmerizing. Peaceful. And suddenly her mind was lit from within. Thoughts and memories she'd never had before flooded through her and wrought a gauntlet of emotion over her. She collapsed to her knees, crying and laughing and panting for all that she could feel. The light continued to touch her, warm her, and she ignored the chuckles of the white creature who stood behind her._

 _Just as quickly as it had been started, it was done. Her skin was tingling. She looked at her hands. They were clean, but her mind saw the blood that she'd shed._

 _"You see? Your toll was paid long ago," Truth whispered._

* * *

The beginnings of soft snowfall made her smile. She'd finished her overnight shift at the small community care center and appreciated the calm darkness of Central before dawn. Her night had been mostly uneventful. A few coughs and colds, one first-degree burn from stoking a fire improperly, and a fractured arm from a slip-and-fall on the emerging ice. Could have been much worse considering that Central wasn't used to snowfalls at all, let alone so early in the season. At least when she arrived home, her kitten would be waiting to curl up in bed with her. The little furball had been wandering the streets a few weeks ago and she'd been able to bring it to her apartment. With time and wet food, it had become quite attached to her. It would need a name soon.

Most of the lights in the city had been doused. Even the street lamps were off. Without much moonlight, the walk home seemed more serene than normal. Cold wind picked up speed for a moment and she shivered. She pulled her mittens from her overcoat pocket to keep her fingers warm for the remainder of the walk home.

 _Ting._

Her silver, military pocket watch fell from her coat pocket and landed on icy sidewalk. She smiled at it and crouched down to pick it up.

A heavy, black boot stepped on her hand and watch and she yelped. She tried to pull her hand out from the deeply grooved sole. The man lifted his foot and she fell backwards with her rear hitting the snow.

"What's the big idea?!" she shouted, rubbing her bare skin which was red from the cold and pressure.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Corniche Royce, correct?"

Her agitation disappeared. Her gut sank. The need to run pushed every other thought and retort away.

* * *

She was weak. Weak and injured. Whether or not she was there for his sake or her own, he doubted things would have ended so easily for Havoc and Hawkeye were she absent. That single minute he was overpowered would have turned almost-certainly disastrous otherwise.

His head bobbed a bit and he snapped himself back awake. Blinking rapidly, shaking his head, it was all he could do to keep his consciousness. Pillowing his head on his folded arms, he remained at the side of his occupied bed. The heavy weights attached to his eyelids got heavier, more stubborn, and he slipped deeper. He hadn't allowed himself to sleep at all, fearful for some retribution even though she was incapacitated. Even with Knox's assurance that she would pull through fine, he needed to see the sunrise before he could feel remotely at ease.

She stirred. His head shot up and he rubbed his tired eyes. Her focus was off, her breath still shallow. But she found him and he couldn't offer anything more than a thin smile and rasp words.

"How're you feeling?"

She winced, "...think I'm broken..."

"You'll be fine in a few days."

Her eyes shot open wider, "The Gate!" she tried to sit up.

He jumped back at the sudden movement before his rational mind regained control. He pushed her down by her shoulders, both hands keeping her from getting any further, "You're in no condition to be up."

"No...I have...it'll keep fighting..."

He finally got her back to the bed, her eyes glazing over with unshed tears. He pulled the blanket back up to her chin, "What about the Gate?"

"It's cold...Cold like snow..."

His eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?"

"It told me...You can't get rid of It. If you do, it'll never come back again."

"Calm down. You need to rest."

Her eyes wilted again and she stopped pushing weakly against his gentle grip. Without more stamina to continue, she drifted back to sleep. He kept his hands on her shoulders until he felt them go slack, her head sinking into the thin pillow.

Hawkeye had left hours ago and he'd taken up residence at the side of his own bed. While his sister had seemed cogent earlier, her fevered sleep had dragged her back to rambling and whimpering in half-intelligible phrases. He'd written down some of it, but most of it was repetitive, more of what Havoc had noted earlier in the day. The rush of seeing her eyes open no longer fueling his own battle against sleep, he gently put his head down and let his eyes close without contest.

* * *

The ground rattled. The bed rumbled. Roy was jerked awake by the sound of a train colliding with a tornado. Eyes blurred, he saw his sister still wheezing with furrowed brow in his bed. A moment later, he noticed the sunlight streaming in through the parted curtains. He stood spastically and looked to the clock on his nightstand. He should've left for Central Command twenty minutes ago, but now he rushed downstairs to yank his military uniform top from the coat stand in the hallway. He could hear sirens in the distance, screams mixing in a horrific cacophony of panic. He buttoned the tunic hastily and pulled his thick, black leather duster on over it. Running out the door and locking it behind him, he stopped at the base of his stoop. He had to leave Amelie alone to do his duty...

A black, acrid smoke filled the brisk air. The looming clouds threatened snow. Winter was fighting to take hold more thoroughly than it had in recent years. But the inky smoke remained the main focus for Mustang. He tried to forget that white-haired woman he'd left alone and ran towards the chaos. He slowed to take in the scene before him.

Black, charred, and bereft of life.

The largest bank in Central had a hole the size of a tank in the side of it. Stones which had previously been a soft beige were now inky black. Fire still thrived on inside. The odor of burning wood and flesh mingled together in an all-too-familiar smell. While the fire brigade finished putting out the flames which threatened the closest buildings, Mustang took the lead to extinguish the flames which raged on inside. He forced the flames to wither and called out to the rescue team with each new body he saw.

* * *

Naomi watched while the Flame rushed from his townhouse. She'd suspected he would stay home if given the chance, but seeing him hesitate even for that slight moment at the bottom of red brick steps made her smile. He had brought the white-haired alchemist to his home after all. And now, she was unsupervised.

With the attack already spreading panic through the city, it would be easy for Ren and his team to sneak in to an unguarded home. Moving away from the window, she pushed tattered fabric aside to sit next to a dilapidated telegraph system. The newer radios were easier to come by, but also easier to manipulate. Roderick had insisted the telegraphs be used to communicate between factions and she hadn't seen them fail since their inception.

Quickly relaying the news that the white-haired woman was alone, she turned her attention back to the bedlam on the streets beneath her. Her breath condensed in little puffs that she walked through to get a better view of the destruction only a few blocks away. The flames had been extinguished, but the smoldering debris still reached black tendrils towards the crisp white sky.

The telegraph machine started beeping ever so slightly. Surprised at the alacritous response, she held the small paper as it unrolled it's message from the device. Roderick had given her new orders. Her eyes landed on the crate in the corner. She had now been given permission to use it's contents.

* * *

Riza contemplated the scene. Not since Scar had targeted State Alchemists had the country been on such high alert with such good cause for constant fear. The glass windows, even those on the relatively untouched southern side of the building, had shattered from the force of the explosion. She watched mindlessly as paramedics ran through and helped those who'd managed to walk out on their own. Already, there were chalk outlines amongst the debris. Rubbing the safety strap of her pistol idly, she noticed a gleam amongst the smoldering ground. Kicking ashes away with her boot, she saw a silver coin. Leaning over led to her picking it up. She rubbed the soot away. The faintest outline of a transmutation circle was etched on the face of it. It wasn't currency, but a coin with purpose. The pattern, however, wasn't one that immediately registered to her. It was annoyingly simple. Even with the transmutations she could think of, none that simple would have such an explosive reaction afterwards. Something this simple wasn't for much more than repairs. Even then, the symbols didn't match up. Turning it over, she gave a frustrated little sigh to see nothing. It was blank. Blank and offering no other clues as to why it was among the ashes.

"Did anyone see anything?" she asked no one in particular.

Breda walked over with a notepad, "Several witnesses say they saw a black military-issue van pull up and three men exit into the bank just before the explosion."

"It was a bomb," Mustang interjected as he walked out from the building.

"Get Fuery on ears. We need to know if anyone takes responsibility for this," Riza continued.

Breda saluted and walked off. Mustang stayed close by and Riza looked around at the destruction, "You think the Republic is to blame?"

"They've taken responsibility for the last few explosions around lunch time on the radio. We'll see if they do it, again."

"They did their homework. Start of the day, with the highest foot traffic? Do we have a body count yet?"

Mustang shook his head, "Not yet."

Riza watched her superior officer. While they'd both climbed up a rank since the Promised Day, Mustang had changed. Changed in the way that he'd become even more determined to make a difference than he'd been before. With the title of General, it had become necessary to keep some things closer to the vest. Still, Riza knew how to read him. And right now, he wasn't thinking of the crime scene. He was thinking of the young, white-haired woman he'd left alone to be here.

Focused on her own duty, Riza turned her attention back to the demolished side of the building. She'd gone to this building several times herself, but now it was nearly unrecognizable. With a deep exhale she moved grudgingly through the rubble. Looking around for the black hair of her superior, she saw Mustang conversing with an MP who'd first arrived on the scene. She shoved the coin into her pocket. She could confer with the alchemist when he wasn't speaking with someone else.

Jean Havoc walked up to her and surveyed the damage for a moment, "Do you really think this is some part of a master plan? It doesn't make sense at all."

Riza shook her head, "Violence never does."

With that, she walked on and continued to look for bodies or survivors. Jean didn't follow behind her, only stayed in the middle of the charred stone. A breeze picked up and sent a shiver down her spine. Looking back to the sky, the clouds continued to roll in and bring relentless weather with them.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Alphonse Elric watched the white countryside roll by. His pale face, golden hair and aureate eyes reflected back at him in the glass. Edward was across the seat from him, nose in a paper they'd brought with them. His brother had decided to read up as much as possible on the prior activities of the terrorists Mustang had enlisted them to help extinguish. Unable to restrain a smile, he turned his attention back to the chilled glass pane.

"You didn't have to tag along, you know," Ed said quietly.

"Classes are done for the season. No reason not to. Besides, someone has to keep you out of trouble."

"I can take care of myself, Al."

"Even so, the Academy's Winter Formal is next week; we were _both_ invited to that."

"You know they just want you to teach in Central instead of Rush Valley. You going to say 'no' again?"

"I don't want to be so far from you and Winry."

"Just saying that's the only reason they invited us in the first place to that stupid dance."

"You just didn't want Winry to have an excuse to make you get dressed up," Al giggled a bit.

His brother rolled his eyes at him and continued browsing through the papers. While some things had changed, most hadn't. Alphonse still enjoyed watching his brother and Winry dance around the obvious attraction. He and Pinako had been betting on when they would officially tie the knot for months now.

"Huh." Al waited for his brother to finish his inner monologue and didn't press for information. Whatever was running through Ed's head would work it's way out eventually. "According to this, the Republic has been reported in several countries working to abolish alchemy where-ever it goes. It doesn't seem to be based in just one location."

"So there's not just one person leading it?"

"Seems unlikely that such a huge organization wouldn't have at least one ringleader."

"Unless they're just all independent factions copying one another," Al supplied.

"Again, the _modus operandi_ are too similar. From the type of explosives to the targets, they've all been similar no matter where it was."

Al looked back to the snowy hills. The first gleam of Central could be seen in the distance. Neither he nor Ed had been back since leaving after the promised day. They'd kept in touch with comrades of course, but had stayed away from the constant commotion. His brows knit together seeing a single plume of inky smoke rising above the towering buildings.

"Brother."

Ed followed his gaze and let out a deep sigh, "That bastard definitely has his work cut out for him."

The soft silence of the train's thrumming was broken by a crackle of static coming from the speakers above the luggage racks. The white noise persisted for a moment, then was broken by a silky voice.

" _Ladies and Gentlemen of Central, this is the Republic. We broadcast to you today regarding the attack on Central Bank. As many of you may know, our organization will continue to destroy any and all establishments which support the State Alchemists Program. These alchemists are a threat to our very existence and even now they destroy and kill without penalty. Several of our brothers and sisters were killed in a skirmish just the day before yesterday, fighting against the notorious murderer of Ishbal, the Flame Alchemist. Do not be fooled by the news Central Command forces you to read - our brothers and sisters were violently murdered without provocation and now this murderer has been tasked with eliminating us. Rest assured, he will not succeed. Our continuing fight to rid this country of the scourge of alchemy will not be halted by his efforts to silence us. Until our next broadcast, keep the resistance alive."_

The radio cut out and Alphonse could feel the tension in the car. The heartbeat of the train was louder than it had been before. No one spoke. Mothers huddled closer to their children.

Edward leaned in and lowered his voice, "That bastard didn't say he was attacked."

"So, what do you think?"

"I think we need to check it out once we get off this train."

Al nodded; the black smoke continued to billow upwards and pollute the white snow with ash.

* * *

She couldn't concentrate. Her mind was foggy, her vision clouded over. It doubled from time to time, making her stumble and lose her footing; she landed against the wooden floor. She slumped, holding onto her re-located arm. Every motion made it sear at her nerves, every breath made her brain swim. Blood had appeared fresh and with renewed vigor. The pain had seeped into her bones and she barely noticed men who'd come to claim her.

She heard them laughing. She wondered idly what day it was. Had she missed the solstice already? She couldn't remember dates. Traveling endlessly had robbed her of that luxury. What solstice would this be for her?

She coughed, the blood spurting across the sheets that had come down to the floor with her. Her body wasn't trembling anymore. Some corner of her brain told her that was dangerous. But even the first movement, the slightest reallocation of weight that would get her moving again, caused her to hiss and flinch while the world started spinning.

Her body racked with another cough, this one more persistent. She could feel her lungs ripple with blood, her brain sending her for another ride. Even as she continued coughing, she knew it was useless to try focusing. Her mind was too jumbled to make use of alchemy, her body too broken to do much more than exist.

And the men still kept laughing.

Their voices sounded like they were beneath water. Or maybe she was too deep to hear them correctly. How had they even found her? Had Roy turned her in? Were these men here to bring her to justice for those deaths? Even if she wanted to, she couldn't have fought them. She knew that. So she just coughed and laid there on the cold floorboards while they manhandled her. The open window sent a chill through her. Had she been more modest, being stripped to only her undergarments would've been distressing. As it were, it just reminded her how vulnerable she'd become.

They wrapped her in the sheet and one threw her over his shoulder. It got colder. The bright snow barely registered. Outside? Had they taken her outside?

Cold and hard, the ground rushed up to meet her. The snow melted against her skin. A sharp bolt of pain made her gasp for air when one of the men kicked her ribs, undoing the small bit of mercy that her time resting had afforded her. Her world contracted into white flashes of light behind her eyes and all became black.

* * *

Edward was intrigued about the news on the radio of the attack. While they didn't say where it had occurred, a small bit of prodding the locals lead them towards the pub where the altercation mentioned on the radio took place. Military police were inspecting the building, but made way for him when he showed his pocket watch. He might not have been a State Alchemist anymore, but the token pocket watch still did wonders. He and Al walked in without a second question.

The scorch marks on the wooden floor made Edward smile on the inside. Some unlucky bastards had messed with the wrong General.

But that didn't explain the transmuted crystal wall in the middle of the pub which had been shattered. The remnants that he saw showed the transmutation. The fact that it didn't belong in the middle of a pub was another great indicator. Even then, it seemed to resonate when he tapped it gently with his gloved knuckle. Diamond? The amount of carbon necessary to create a diamond wall would've been immense. Even before his own alchemy had been forsaken, he doubted he could've done it.

Looking to an MP that was taking notes nearby, Edward sighed, "Who else was here besides General Mustang?"

"Just the bartender and Lieutenant Havoc, sir," the young woman explained with a gentle smile.

"The bartender? Was he an alchemist?"

"No, sir. Why?"

While the reason ran rampant through Ed's mind, he shook his head absently and looked back to the scene, "No reason."

Mustang couldn't have transmuted the wall. He had privately said that his knowledge gifted by the Gate was lost when he got his eyesight back. Much as Edward was grateful for the General to be able to see again, having the ability to transmute anything did come in handy more often than not.

Either the reports had been mistaken, or Mustang had lied. Another alchemist was here with him when he was attacked. Another powerful alchemist who was adept at manipulating carbon.

He turned and walked out, Alphonse a close step behind. While he didn't put it past Mustang to lie, there was no reason to hide another alchemist's involvement. None that he could think of off the top of his head, at any rate.

The snow crunched under his feet and he pulled his red cloak tighter to his body. Most schools had closed for the day in deference to the bombing and the oncoming storm. With the Solstice holiday only a week away, Edward was sure the children didn't mind. Many he and Al passed on their walk were bundled up and playing with the cold accumulation. They threw snowballs, built tiny snowmen. Street vendors had opted to sell warm cups of hot cocoa and coffee alongside the usual rolls. The smells wafted through the brisk air and reminded him of the sumptuous feast he could look forward to if Winry was cooking back home.

Al was a few steps ahead. Even after a year, he still found himself expecting to wake up to a dream and find his brother back in that hollow shell of a body.

But each morning he woke up and Al was already eating breakfast in the kitchen, he smiled. Al had stopped asking why after a month of it.

They'd been lucky to be where they were when Al's body had been restored. Ill-nourished for all that time, it had been painfully thin and gaunt. Weak, without muscle tone, his younger brother had been helpless. Even to this day, Ed was grateful that Mustang had rushed forward to place his military coat around his brother's naked body. His own legs had been rooted to the ground for the shock of actually seeing their dream come to fruition. Knowing they'd just accomplished something that shouldn't have happened, he'd froze. Izumi and Mustang were the ones to first tend to Al. And even with bloody hands, the General had carried his brother. Izumi had dragged him along behind.

Lucky, because they were right next to some of the best hospitals in the country.

Lucky, because Roy was already considered a hero.

Lucky, because Olivia and her brother were nearby to take command while they retreated and brought Al to safety.

He wondered if he'd ever said thank you to his sensei and his commanding officer for being the ones to shelter Al while he'd been dumbstruck.

"Who else do you think was with them?" Al asked gently, breaking Edward from his own memory.

"Dunno. Pretty impressive to make a diamond wall from air."

"You think he'd tell us if we asked?" Al joked, a slanted smile on his face.

"Not likely. He didn't tell the MPs."

"Guess we'll just have to snoop a bit, huh?"

"You just want to master another form of alchemy."

"Always helps to think outside the box."

"Well, let's head over to Central Command. Maybe we'll catch up with him there."

"You don't think he'll be at the bomb site?"

"Oh, he'll be there. And if we have a chance to see who helped him outta that bar fight, it'll be because he isn't around," Ed grinned.

The silver stone of Central Command reflected the snow and loomed over the skyline. Walking through the grand entrance, he scoffed internally to see a statue in the atrium of Fuehrer King Bradley. While he may have been one of the homunculus responsible for almost killing an entire country, there were precious few who knew that. The people still looked upon him as a great leader who'd been killed before his time. So, the statue had been erected in the rebuilt entryway.

It was a farce, but a necessary one.

Opening the door to an office at the top floor, Edward smiled to see Breda, Havoc and Fuery already assembled. Hawkeye and Hayate were also present. The pup raised its head as Ed and Alphonse walked in and offered a welcoming bark and happy eyes. Alphonse wasted no time getting down to the dog's level and delivering belly rubs.

With the door to the adjoining office closed and no lights coming under the jam, Edward guessed at least part of his hunch was correct. That bastard had been attacked and was now at the most recent bombing site.

"So, did the General win?" he asked.

Hawkeye offered a gentle smile as she looked up from her paperwork, "He did. He'll be in this afternoon if you wish to touch base with him regarding his orders."

"Yeah, all right. Who was with him?"

She looked back to her papers and continued writing with perfect poise, "With him?" she echoed.

"Yeah. Stopped by the pub and saw the damage. Saw his handiwork. Also saw a wall. Last I heard, he couldn't make those."

She met his gaze with still a placid face, "He and Lieutenant Havoc were alone, to my knowledge."

Edward didn't say anything else, just kept his gaze locked with hers for a moment. When she continued on with her work, he exhaled. She was just as stubborn as the General when it came to keeping information hidden. While he had no doubt his hunch was accurate, it wouldn't be bugging him so much if he knew _why_ it was being kept a secret. Knowing there was something to hide was almost less tantalizing than the fact it was being hidden.

"Was your train ride pleasant?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Enjoying your time off in Rush Valley?" Havoc chimed in from his own desk.

"Much more peaceful," Ed allowed, "Not having to travel back and forth across the coun—"

The sudden motion from Kain made everyone look to the smaller man when he violently pulled a headset from his ears and slammed them to the table.

"You won't believe what just came over the radio," he yelled, pulling the jack from its plug to allow the speakers to resume playback of the broadcast. He fiddled with the dial to turn the volume up a bit more and everyone except Hawkeye moved in closer to listen.

* * *

The sunlight came through shattered windows. He would have to leave the crime scene, to face the cruel world that lay in the aftermath. Deliver news to families. He could allow the MPs to take that duty and not see crying faces, angry relatives. He could hunker down in his office to work on the stack of paperwork Hawkeye no doubt had for him. He could do a plethora of minute tasks that would absolve him from being the messenger.

No. It was his duty. And he would do it because he was, in some part, responsible. Each day, waiting for an order to come across his desk detailing the crimes he was to be charged for. And each day it didn't come, he felt relieved and guilty and hopeless. The whole idea of changing the government back to a democracy was to atone for his sins as a State Alchemist. But he was sure that even being thrown to rot in some jail, or sentenced to the firing squad, wouldn't begin to make up for all he'd done in that damned war and since. All he could do was wait for a judgment he'd already passed on himself. Guilty.

His temples throbbed when the sharp clip of military boots clicked together in a salute. He looked to the young man offering a portable headset and reached for it, yanking it off the receiver.

"Hello?"

 _"General Mustang."_

"I'm almost done here and I will be back before—"

 _"Sir, something's happened,"_ Hawkeye interrupted.

Roy stopped. Something about her tone of voice..."What?"

 _"I think you'd best get to Central Military Hospital as soon as possible. I can send Fuery to pick—"_

"Don't bother. I'm on my way."

He hung up the phone and all traces of his nagging headache were gone, erased by that haunting ability to move no matter what the circumstance. Battlefields were dangerous, and he'd only survived by forcing fear and invalidity away. Now was no different. The danger was just more subtle. He didn't bother dismissing himself or turning the scene over, just ran. He wasn't surprised when the small afternoon crowds parted for him as he ran full tilt towards the government hospital. The image of his sister in a hospital bed plagued his mind. Riza hadn't mentioned what had been done, or to who, but his mind wouldn't let him ignore the vision of his little sister in some half-dead state.

Rounding the next corner of the main street, he saw the admittance entrance of the hospital and the recognizable blonde hair of his right hand. He didn't slow down until he stood, panting and doubled over, in front of her. She snapped to attention and waited briskly while he caught his breath.

"Shall I report, sir?" she asked.

He couldn't find enough breath to reply, so he just nodded. If she was amused at her superior's lack of breath, it didn't show.

"A radio station received and broadcasted a message from the Republic. In that message, the terrorists claimed they would be putting an end to all alchemy in Amestris. They also mentioned that they would be making examples of anyone who got in their way. A member of the military was attacked this morning. The victim managed to get to the hospital on her own."

His brow furrowed and he straightened a bit despite the sharp, stabbing pain in his sides, "What? That's...that's why y...you called me?"

"The victim asked for you personally, sir."

Even with his sides yelling at him for the full-throttled run, he still registered that dreadful tone in her voice, "Who...Amelie?" he asked.

"No. Not Amelie. Perhaps it would be best explained inside," she indicated.

Finally feeling his fingertips and toes regain blood flow, he nodded, following her as she led the way into the hospital. The smell of disinfected blood made his stomach turn over. With the shock of being called to the hospital gone, his mind chose to remember that he'd not slept well the night before and hadn't eaten breakfast or lunch.

"Are you feeling okay, sir?" she asked.

He glared at her, "Yes, thank you."

He wouldn't have caught that small smirk that tugged at her lips if he hadn't been looking for it. She led him to one of the intensive care units and stood at the ajar door. He braced himself and straightened, mentally checking his appearance before opening the door.

Sitting on the hospital bed facing away was a familiar young woman with vibrant red hair. She absently tossed a dart at a makeshift bullseye across the way on the wall. Roy hesitated and took stock of her wounds. Bruises, a bloody shoulder, but seemingly nothing more. Hardly worth the hospital's time in his opinion. Hawkeye was right behind him and she silently closed the door.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Royce," he said softly.

She stood abruptly and saluted, "General Mustang!"

He smiled, "At ease. What are you doing here?"

She sighed and looked down to the ground. There was shame in her face, hidden by her bangs. The Tuning Alchemist, she was skilled in medical alchemy and had studied with Doctor Marcoh if his recent memory served him right. Still, he couldn't see any wounds which posed a threat.

"I was attacked."

"By the Republic?"

"Yes, sir."

"And...?"

"There was a man, he called himself Roderick. He...he took my alchemy from me, sir."

Roy's furrowed brow was the only indication he'd heard her. His heart was too loud for him to think, a cold sweat broke out and rolled down his back. Silent, he just stared at her.

"What?" Hawkeye asked.

"He ambushed me, tossed me about. Said something about cleansing the world. He put his hand on my head, and I passed out. When I came to, I tried to heal myself and I couldn't. My alchemy was...it was just gone."

Roy's mind flurried with possible explanations. He vaguely remembered something about the original homunculus having control of alchemy, but that advantage had been sabotaged during the promised day. His memories searched themselves in a recurring motion, trying to remember more about the homunculus' abilities. But this was one person, not a whole cross-section of the country.

"I didn't know who else to tell, sir. The doctors here are running tests, but they can't explain it. No head trauma, no cause for it. It's just gone, sir."

"You did the right thing by informing me," was all he could finally muster. His mind was blank. His heart was beating double time in a subtle panic.

Amelie had been ranting about not being touched and the man who attacked him the night before last had nothing but his hand as a weapon. Was he supposed to be the first example? By intervening, had Amelie saved him from a powerless fate?

Lieutenant-Colonel Corniche Royce sat unceremoniously on the bed again, her eyes downcast, and she whispered to herself, "I can't do alchemy anymore."


	5. Revelations

**Revelations**

Riza placed the stack of papers on the joint desks for the team to comb through. They had a name that now they could tie to the Republic, and the only way to get ahead of this madman was to find out more about him. Her own hands trembled ever so slightly with the memory of that hospital room. Alchemy, gone. Sure, there were many reasons an alchemist was rendered useless; her own General when faced with water, even something so simple as head trauma or a concussion... It didn't take much more than a well-aimed blow to the temple to disarm even the toughest alchemists. The brain was the strongest component of the transmutation and without it, the alchemy wouldn't be activated. Worse still was the chance it would rebound or cause serious injury to the alchemist himself. But even with all that, there was always a reason the alchemist was over-powered. A medical reason.

 _This?_

This was terrifying.

Riza looked up to see Shieska pop her head through the ajar doorway and give a soft smile. Impressed at the woman's speed at obtaining those classified documents, she met her in the hallway. The younger woman looked down at a small wooden box she held tenderly in her hands. The lights from outside glared off her glasses and hid her eyes.

"Captain Hawkeye, I thought I'd stop by and give these to you."

Hawkeye didn't recognize the box, "What is it?"

Shieska's voice wavered, "When I worked for Lieutenant-Co-I mean, Brigadier General Hughes, he told me, that if you ever came asking about Amelie Rochester, to give you these," she handed over the wooden box.

Hawkeye opened the heavy box and looked in at the contents. Letters. Faded and weary from being folded for so long with paper that was brown and musty in all sizes without consistency. Thumbing through them, she saw each was addressed to Maes Hughes with fanciful script but no return address. Her coffee eyes looked back to Shieska. Even though the light was obscuring her eyes, Riza could see the fear and uncertainty in them.

"He said they would explain things."

"Thank you."

"I'm almost done compiling all of the military's reports, but I thought these might be helpful in the meantime."

"I'm sure they will be."

Finally, Shieska looked Riza in the eyes and offered a soft smile, "He told me that she was like his little sister, and that if I ever had the chance to help, that I should."

"The Brigadier General was a wise man."

Shieska nodded and walked off. She cuffed the brimming tears from her eyes and left Riza alone with a wooden box that, she hoped, would begin to fill in some of the gaps the General had left open.

Turning back to the office, she brought the box to her desk and opened the lid. Pulling the first letter from the stack, she gingerly opened it. The ink was vibrant even if the paper looked a bit worse for wear. The handwriting was immaculate script, beautiful and dainty with a delicate strength attached to it.

* * *

 _Maes,_

 _I didn't have time to tell you thank you after the hospital. I don't think I would have made it out of the country without your help. Please know that I never meant to hurt you, or brother, and that this alchemy I own is fueled by emotion. The argument with brother made me reckless and you both suffered for it. I'm so sorry._

 _Brother doesn't care why I killed those men, but I want someone to know. I had to escape from Central. The alchemists there weren't trying to help people. They were torturing them. I didn't know so much for long, and there's still more I'm not sure of, but believe me when I say that this government is not protecting its citizens._

 _I went to Central with a State Alchemist who called himself a doctor. He helped me explore alchemy and every riddle he posed I was able to solve. For months he taught me and tested me until he said I was ready to join him at his work and see if my theoretical knowledge could have practical results. I was so naive. I thought we were playing, and that my imagination was nothing more than a pastime. He asked me to solve the riddle of combining humans and animals without losing stability or the human capacity for rational thought. I did. He told me these soldiers were volunteers who wanted to become stronger. The first was a man who wanted to be a frog (perhaps a toad, I can't remember). I made it happen. This man could change at will. He looked normal until he changed. My teacher was so very proud. I continued to make these hybrids for him and his colleagues and every time I succeeded, they praised me._

 _I was left alone one afternoon at the laboratory where he worked. He had asked me to study some ancient texts and see if I couldn't reproduce their results. It was boring. I wish now that I had wandered sooner; perhaps I would have seen just how horrific this laboratory was. There were men being dragged from their bodies, their souls planted onto artificial creations. They screamed, begged, and I cried because my theories were being used to accomplish that._

 _I beg you to believe that I never wanted my alchemy to be used like that, as a weapon or a method of torture. I panicked. I lost control and demolished the operating wing of the laboratory. Several of the hybrids who I'd been told were volunteers fled. I tried, but the State Alchemist caught me. They threw me in a cell like an animal. I was told they would kill everyone I loved if I didn't do their bidding. It wasn't just hybrids after that, and they kept pushing me to give them more. Every time I tried to resist, they threatened to kill my family - I thought they knew about Roy and Madame Christmas. I wasn't willing to take the risk. I did what they wanted. I did it well to avoid being beaten._

 _I finally fled. I left and ran to the countryside. When they found me, I couldn't imagine going back. I know those soldiers only did their duty, but they didn't know what they were helping facilitate. I had to defend myself. If I hadn't, more innocent people would have been killed by my alchemy. I had to, Maes. I pray that you understand. Had I gone back to that laboratory, they might have accomplished heinous things through my knowledge._

 _Again, I thank you for not ever turning your back on me. I will write again once I find a sheltered place to settle down. Hopefully, in time, our home will be safe again for me._

 _If my brother asks, please tell him that I still love him and cherish our country. I will never begrudge him his choices, for he must do what he thinks best._

 _With Love,_

 _Amelie_

* * *

Roy looked up at his Captain. She had brought him a box of tattered letters and asked that he read at least one. She'd given it to him and he done what she asked. Now, his vision was narrowed to the rest of those papers. What secrets did they hold? His sister...forced to do alchemy against her will? Chimeras that he came to know and who fought alongside him during the Promised Day? He remembered being under the Third Laboratory and seeing those rooms full of destroyed medical equipment. Had that been because of her?

Looking back, Maes would always nudge him about whether or not he'd heard from Amelie lately. Roy's answer was always the same: "I want nothing to do with a traitor," he sighed aloud.

Riza looked at him, her brow turned upwards in confusion, "Sir?"

"That's what I said whenever Maes mentioned her. It seems he hid these from me for good reason."

"If what her letter says is true, she was likely responsible for many of the chimeras we met. She may also have been responsible for the knowledge that led to Barry's creation."

Roy looked at those last few lines, penned with such fervent hope that he would one day be a brother to her again. He had been anything but. Despite his duties, he wanted nothing more than to head home and ask her why she hadn't given up on him even though he'd given up on her.

"I have something else for you, sir," Riza approached and pulled a small, tarnished silver coin from her pocket.

Roy smiled nostalgically, "The Academy's merit coin."

Riza said nothing when she handed the coin over. Roy looked at it, seeing the fictional alchemical circle design on the front, "Some of the State Alchemists who teach at the Academy use these as a merit reward for the young students."

"I found it in the rubble of the bank."

Roy's brow furrowed, "We didn't find any children or State Alchemists at the scene."

"Could the child have escaped?"

"Perhaps..."

The hesitation in his voice made her step closer, "Or?" she prompted

"If I were trying to make a statement about alchemy, I would go after those who are its future. Erase future generations," he turned the coin thoughtfully in his fingers.

Riza's face became stony, "Then I think we'll be visiting the local academy to see if any child is reported missing from the school's roster. I'll have Fuery start on that, sir," he nodded distractedly; Amelie had been like those children once. She'd just wanted to learn. Riza cleared her throat, "If you need to leave to attend other matters, I think we can continue this without you here."

Roy looked at the box of letters. Folding the one he'd just read back into the pattern it had kept for years, he placed it back in the case and dropped the coin in with it before he softly shut the lid. His fingers lingered. He wanted to read more as much as he didn't want to know what else she had endured. It had been easier to just despise her. Now, he wondered why she'd come back at all and had protected him so fervently.

"No. My job is here, Captain. Thank you."

She clipped her heels together and saluted, leaving him to his work while she and the others continued to sort through all the intelligence they had on the Republic. They needed to find this man called Roderick. He had already claimed one State Alchemist. Roy wouldn't let him claim any other. With children in the mix, he felt his resolve to help his sister become all the more fervent. He'd failed her when she was young. He wouldn't fail a new generation.

* * *

Naomi navigated her way to the bunker where Roderick had holed up. Knocking firmly, he granted her entry. He was sitting on the sparse bed, a damp towel over his shoulders and his shift laid aside. With little hot water, taking a full shower was out of the question for any of them down here. Still, she could appreciate the fact that his body wasn't imposing. He wasn't a physical man, not by any stretch of the imagination. Not paunchy, either. Just...normal.

"News?" he asked.

"Ren and his team have the white-haired woman. She's useless. Concussion. Shouldn't give them any trouble; or you, for that matter."

"I will not be cleansing her," he stood, tossing the towel aside and pulling his shirt back on, "Not yet, any way."

"Why not?"

"I received word that another State Alchemist, a blonde, is near. He's a much more high-profile target. This woman is no one to anyone except the Flame. And if we get him, then I will be sure to visit him."

"Ren says he'll hold him until you get there, no matter what."

"Ren says a lot of things," Roderick chuckled, "Which reminds me: you got my telegram?"

"I did."

"Since I won't be there right away, you need to be sure that Ren isn't captured by anyone in the military. He's not a stiff-lipped man. He'll break and tell them everything if they find the right means to persuade him. He's one of the few who could undo all the work we've done so far."

"It won't come to that, I'm sure of it."

"But, if it does...?"

"Then I'll carry out that order."

"I know you will. In the meantime, send word: have the children moved to the hospital. I don't want them staying in one location too long."

Naomi nodded and waited silently while Roderick pulled on several more layers. Each helped conceal his striking countenance. Bright blue eyes and warm, blonde hair that touched his lapels. He kept most of it in a ponytail, but some was too short and fell to cover his neck and grace his shoulders. She couldn't say he was attractive to her, but perhaps to some he would be. He was tall, though, and he towered over her by a foot when he came closer to place a hand on her shoulder.

"This is just the beginning, Naomi. The Flame will be cleansed of alchemy."

He walked out. She fell in step behind him. He'd gotten her this far. She had no reason to doubt him. Or his order. Watching him jump into a civilian vehicle with several others, she made her way back towards her hideout by the Flame's townhouse after delivering orders to another of some rank.

No doubt the Flame would be getting done with work soon. While she didn't need to watch him, she felt some anticipation to see just how he would react. He'd always been described as a cool-headed man. Perhaps this woman would be the one to rattle his cage a bit.

The sun was getting lower in the sky. The black smoke from the earlier explosion had faded away. Only the slightest scent of it was carried on the frigid air. Reaching her post, she unpacked the crate. The rifle was exquisite. The scope on it was some of the newest technology the military had to offer. She would have to travel light and that meant only taking one clip of ammunition with her.

The sunset splayed flames across the snow and she waited silently.

* * *

Walking up the brick stairs, Roy didn't expect to receive any welcome upon entering his home. Amelie was likely still asleep. His shift at Central had been longer due to the terrorist carnage. And, without having slept well the night before, he couldn't say he was looking forward to the long vigil ahead; regardless, he would be diligent. Unbuttoning his long black jacket, he trod up the stairs. Knowing now that her intervention had saved him from becoming Roderick's example, his heart melted. Everything he thought he knew had been wrong. She was a victim.

He tapped his knuckles against the bedroom door he'd left her behind. When there was no answer, he cleared his throat and spoke softly through the wood, "Amelie?"

Still, she didn't respond. Her wounds had been sufficient enough to warrant such deep sleep. He couldn't blame her. If anything, he blamed himself. It had been his fault she'd even contemplated intervening in the altercation. The attack had been meant for him; perhaps if he'd been more prepared for it, she never would have had cause to get involved. Encircling his hand around the doorknob, he twisted it.

It didn't open.

Brow furrowed, he tried to push it open again. Even with the lock disengaged, the door wouldn't budge. He pounded on it. His heart started racing. Images of his sister, dead and alone, ran through his panicked mind. Shouting her name and still receiving no response, he kicked at the door just under the knob. It rattled. He threw his shoulder into it and, while it budged ever so slightly, there wasn't enough give.

Taking a step back, he pulled on his trademark glove and snapped. The fire licked at the door without touching the frame. Embers revealed a hole in the middle of it. Roy could see where a chair had been propped up against the knob on the inside. Moving through the door and brushing embers from his jacket, he took a step inside the bedroom. The window was open and the curtains were billowing towards him with the breeze. The decanter of water previously on the side table was shattered against the floor. The quilts were crumpled, half off the bed and still stained with blood from Amelie's injuries.

Head on a swivel, he continued to look around. There was a piece of paper fluttering; it had been stuck to the wooden bedpost with a knife. Roy reached for it and read it. A note for ransom, claiming to have Amelie at some abandoned warehouse near the river.

Fist clenched tight around the paper and crumpling it, he stormed back out of the room to his study across the hall. Taking out a decoy book, he grabbed an extra magazine of bullets and stuck it in his pocket. He hesitated. He had been instructed to come alone. The note had threatened Amelie's life if he disobeyed. With his sister so badly injured, she wouldn't be able to defend herself. Not that she was a physical person to begin with. Her alchemy was all she could muster to save her, and in her current condition it wouldn't be doable.

He had to go alone. But reinforcements didn't have to be far away. While he didn't want anyone involved with saving a fugitive, he didn't trust himself to go into a trap without backup.

He picked up the phone and turned the dial to enter in the numbers he had memorized. The phone on the other end rang for a few moments. Each passing ring, he felt his heart beat faster. For a moment, he thought he heard the receiver pick up. He readied himself to speak, when he heard the recording. The newfangled answering machine had her voice, saying to leave a message. He cursed his own memory. She had mentioned going to the downtown district tonight to prepare the library for the Winter Formal. He had no idea when she would get home, but he had to at least hope she would be there in time.

"It's me. I need you to come to 428 Henway. I have a customer who's stealing supplies."

He hung up. He couldn't risk saying more. While Riza lived alone, he didn't know who would hear it. Tossing the paper he'd crumpled aside, he walked back down the stairs and out into the streets. He buttoned his jacket back up for the gelid breeze outside.

Walking down cobbled streets, he kept his eyes on the horizon. The warehouse district wasn't close, but neither was it worth hailing a cab to cover the distance. Hands in his pockets, he rubbed his fingers together. The firecloth would be his only chance. No doubt the people who had taken her would know who he was. They would anticipate a fight. That alone made his sister's life precarious in the balance.

He'd lost her twice before. He wasn't about to let it be a third time.

* * *

 _Maes Hughes got a lot of mail. So much, in fact, that there was one cart usually devoted just to his office. Most of it was promotion requests in some form or another. Now that he'd been put in charge of investigations, he had to choose an understudy and the applications had come rolling in almost prematurely._ _One letter had caught his attention. The handwriting, a fine calligraphic scribble of his name, looked suspiciously like the handwriting of the Flame Alchemist. Eccentric as Roy Mustang was, his handwriting had always been pompously neat and Maes could've spotted it a mile away. So, after sorting through countless applications, he decided a letter from the man wasn't the worst way to reward himself for his diligence._

 _Opening it, however, he quickly realized it wasn't from Roy at all. Not only was it not addressed from East City, it was distinctly long. Eccentric, yes. Good with paragraphs, no._

 _Reading the letter, he smiled and found the signature on the bottom and wasn't surprised a bit to see it there. Looking to the envelope, he couldn't find a return address that would give him the chance to respond, but he was head of investigations now and that had to count for something._

 _He was dialing the numbers and asking for extensions before the letter could be neatly folded and placed back in the envelope._

" _This is Mustang," the voice answered on the other end._

 _Maes smiled, "You'll never guess who I just got a letter from."_

" _Who?" there wasn't the slightest bit of interest audible in Roy's voice. No doubt he was busy unpacking his new office._

 _"Your shadow"_

 _There was a distinct pause. Maes could hear the shuffle of Roy's uniform, even the placement of his pen on the desk, "You know where she is?"_

" _No. I just got a letter from her. Care for me to forward it?"_

" _No."_

 _Maes almost lost his smile and he sat up a bit in his chair, "No worries, I'll send it as—"_

" _No!"_

" _Don't you want to know how she is? She's been gone for over nine weeks."_

" _Good riddance."_

" _Roy..."_

" _Burn it. Better yet, let me. If you forward it, that's all I'll do to it."_

" _But she's your si—"_

" _No, she's not, dammit! Will you stop saying that? I have no family. Least of all family that could attack our soldiers. Burn it, Maes."_

 _His shoulders slumping, Hughes looked at the letter again, "She wants to know you're still safe, Roy. Don't you want to know the same?"_

" _I thought I made myself clear. I don't care what she says, where she is, so long as I don't hear from her again and she never shows herself."_

" _I told you that what happened in the hospital wasn't her fault."_

" _Even if it wasn't – and I'm not convinced it wasn't – she killed men. Our men. Our soldiers. And I can't look past that."_

" _You think she really did all the papers say she did?"_

" _I think she's capable of it."_

" _That's not a yes. Are you sure you don't just want to—"_

 _The line went dead. Maes rolled his eyes and gently put the receiver back down, looking to the letter in his hands. Temperamental as Roy was, Maes was sure the line hadn't gone dead on accident. He held the envelope in his hands, looking at it. Tucking it away in his desk, he locked the drawer it was in. One day, he was sure, Roy would want to see it._

* * *

The warehouse loomed, dark and foreboding. Without a single light emanating from the interior, Roy couldn't be sure he wasn't too late. Perhaps they'd been tired of waiting. Or they moved on and decided on a different ransom. Worse, they may have handed her to the authorities. Watching for a moment, he saw the tiniest bit of movement inside. The shattered window closest to the river let him see a dark shape highlighted as it moved within the inky blackness. The scant moonlight was all he could go on. That one glimmer, one silhouette, and already he knew these weren't amateurs. The weapon he'd seen looked to be military. More than his own meager sidearm. And, no doubt, they could see him. He wasn't exactly dressed for stealth work. Inhaling deep, he crossed the pedestrian bridge over the river. The steadily moving water below was oddly soothing in its sound. His own footsteps sounded hollow on the wooden planks. Moving back onto cobbled stone, he hesitated. The doors weren't open. It would force him to give up any advantage of surprise.

He didn't really have a choice.

Opening the door, he cringed to hear how loud it squealed. No doubt, his own fears made it louder. Closing it behind him, his eyes were forced to adjust from the meager moonlit night outside to the obsidian void at his front. He saw no motion, no life.

"I'm here," he spoke softly out into the darkness. There was no response. His jaw tightened before he straightened, "I know you're in here. Now show yourselves!"

There was a small shuffling of feet. Hands still inside his coat, Mustang waited. He didn't want to chance blowing the wrong person sky high. The shuffling became more distinct and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears.

"Show yourself!" he repeated.

A muffled yelp and a thud. Mustang tried to search for a shape in the direction of the sound. Still, he couldn't see anything. His jaw clenched and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. When the click of a light coincided with a beam being shone on his face, he resisted the urge to shield his eyes. He winced and blinked, keeping his eyes closed for the most part while searching for anything to give him a target. The cold sweat on his back tingled as it rolled down his skin. With the relatively bright beam of light aimed at his face, the nearby scene was all but erased. He could hear feet, and shuffling, but he couldn't see past the light that shone in his eyes.

It turned off and he was left with the burn of it on his vision. The only light left was spilling from the holes in the ceiling, in shafts that pierced the shattered skylights. Still, the pain of the brightness took a moment to fade. When it did, he finally caught sight of that white hair. Forcing himself to remain still, he had to fight with his own feet. She looked horrible.

A thick rope had been wrapped with white fabric. It was tied around her face as a gag and her lips looked beaten and bloody. The redness on her pale skin from the rope rubbing on her cheeks was the next thing he noticed. One of her eyes was swollen and purple. Her entire body was bruised. In nothing more than her underwear, his sister was injured in every conceivable way. Her hands were roped together at her front. Her ankles had been tied off, as well. Her glazed gaze barely registered him. And while he knew she'd been in bad shape when he'd left her this morning, the fresh wounds made his blood boil.

A man held her by her upper arm. The tight grip highlighted just how tiny his sister truly was when his fingers managed to touch his opposing thumb around the width of her arm.

She tried to look at him with her one good eye. She could barely hold her head up. Roy outstretched his hand, ready to snap.

"I see you got our note," the man smiled; he and Amelie were chest to back, too close for Roy to avoid burning her. He knew what kind of clearance he needed to not cause her harm. Six inches. That was all. If that man pushed her forward or himself back just six inches, his life would be forfeit in a blaze.

"I did. I came. Now let her go or I burn all of you to a crisp."

"That's not the plan."

"Then what is?" Mustang grit his teeth.

"We make the rules here, General. So, stand down. Slowly, or she'll suffer," the unnamed man emphasized his point; he grabbed Amelie's jawline and held a thick knife to her throat. His cheek touched hers and he gave a sadistic kiss to her swollen eye. She whimpered. Roy could feel his feet try to move. His little sister, beaten, was looking to him.

When Mustang hesitated, the man jolted her and she bit down on the wrapped-rope gag with a stifled cry of pain. He could see a half-dozen men in his peripheral vision. If he didn't hold back, he could take them all out with a single snap. The one holding his sister hostage, however... That man was still too close. He could hear the tell-tale sound of hammers clicking back on revolvers. One piece of cold metal touched the back of his head. Could he do it? Snap and control the alchemy long enough before the shot killed him...?

"I don't care to repeat myself, General Mustang. So, stand down, or I will hurt her."

He looked to his sister. Her flint eye was looking to him, but her resolve was strong. She tried to dissuade him. No doubt, if she could talk, she would tell him to take the risk. She'd always been willing to be a scapegoat for him. She would try to be strong.

But Roy couldn't be. He couldn't watch her hurt again on his account. Not after what he'd read... what she'd endured for fear of his life being snuffed out.

Moving slowly, he relaxed his outstretched hand and pulled the other from his pocket. Raising them to his shoulder height, he heard movement behind him. The man at his front, the one holding Amelie, looked over Roy's shoulders and gave a command with a simple look. Roy felt two sets of hands on his person. They removed his gloves harshly before dropping the white fabric into a nearby bucket of water. They yanked his long black coat from him and tossed it aside, too. The gun was taken from the nape of his neck. His jaw still clenched, the Flame Alchemist kept his eyes on the man holding his sister.

"Now, be so kind as to remove your jacket."

"Enough... You let her go and I'll cooperate. You have my word."

"Sadly, your word means nothing. And having this precious thing here is the only way to ensure your cooperation. So, help her and do exactly what I say. You behave, and she just might survive to see the sun rise," the man spoke calmly, without a bit of trepidation.

But, Roy noticed, he hadn't referred to Amelie as his sister. Did he not know who she was? What she could do? That lack of knowledge might get them somewhere...

"So, your jacket."

Swallowing hard, Roy obliged and methodically unbuttoned his starched blue uniform top. Taking it off, he let it drop to the ground. The cool air prickled his skin; with only a thin shirt, he suddenly hoped they would cover Amelie. No doubt she was freezing cold, half-naked as she was.

"Hands up, General."

"Use it to keep her covered, at least," he added, feeling something akin to bile in his heart at the thought of asking politely the man who had control over her.

"Perhaps."

Another silent command and Roy felt iron shackles clamp closed over his bare wrists. He was led to the side. A gangplank walkway ran around the outer perimeter of the room at least a dozen feet off the ground. The jangle of chains and he felt his hands raised above his head. Looking to the side, he saw the chain on his right thrown over a metal beam before it was attached to a pulley and latch. The one on the left, no doubt, was being fastened in a similar manner. He exhaled sharply when the chains were pulled taut. At first it was just a nuisance. With each turn of the latch, he felt his body lifted with his arms bearing the weight. Another turn was enough to keep him from standing flat foot, a sharp exhale and grunt the only indication of his discomfort. The box of his boots barely scraped against the concrete floor. With all his weight on his wrists, the metal encircling them pressed painfully hard against the nub of bone there.

"Remove his pocket watch. And his pistol."

Rummaging through his right pocket, they yanked the silver ornament away and unclipped it from his belt. The gun was removed as well.

"Alright, you've got me. Now let her go."

The unnamed threat moved closer. Amelie couldn't walk with her ankles tied as they were, but she managed to not fall. Each movement and Roy could see pain in her features.

"Who is she? A lover? A long-lost daughter? Because, honestly, some of my men didn't think the grand Hero of Ishbal would ever be taken so easily."

So he didn't know the relation, "It doesn't matter who she is. She's innocent. She's injured and she needs medical attention."

The man laughed. It hurt Roy's ears. It was deep and throaty, full of hatred and dripping with intent, "This little thing? She doesn't need medical attention. By the time we're done with her, she'll need a coroner."

In one quick motion, the man turned his attention wholly onto Amelie. His fist closed around the handle of the blade and darted forward to punch her on her cheek. Going limp, the small woman was thrown to the ground. She could barely brace her fall, her head only missing the hard floor by an inch. Her whimper and stifled cry tugged at Roy's heart and he chewed on the inside of his cheeks. The restraint around her wrists was used to lift her up a bit from the floor. The man ran his backhand across her face. She sobbed when she was forced back to the ground and the dull thud of it resonated in her brother's ears.

"Damn you!" Roy hissed at him, jolting his chains in a vain attempt to get at him.

The man smiled at Roy and walked around Amelie's slumped body. His sister looked to him, still gagged and bound, while the unnamed man reared back for a kick to her middle. The kick landed to her ribcage and her entire body shuddered and was lifted off the ground before slamming back down. Roy could hear her cry out behind the gag in her mouth. The white cloth was slowly being tainted red as blood welled up in her mouth.

"You want me? Deal with me! Leave her alone!" he screamed, a mix between hatred and a panicked plea.

"And you'll have your turn. The idea is to hurt you. If hurting her causes you pain, then I think it's a worthwhile venture."

The man stomped down hard on Amelie's small body. As much as Roy tried to, he couldn't move. He couldn't get a hold of the floor below. His feet couldn't give him purchase to propel him forward. The chains rattled as he tried to jolt them loose. All he could hear was the vain attempt on Amelie's part to hold back her pained cries. Her one good eye was slammed closed to steel herself against the pain. Roy could see a tear roll down her face, highlighted by the dim blue light.

The beating stopped when the man snapped.

She was picked up from behind by her tied wrists. She tried to curl up, tried to shield her body from another battery. She whimpered. They dragged her backwards away from Roy. He struggled. His heart hit the back of his ribs. They were pulling her into the darkness, out of sight, and he could hear the anticipating, lewd laughs of the men dragging her.

"What do you want with her? Tell me, damn you!"

The man, the only one who'd spoken, turned and smiled at him. He stepped closer; so close that Roy could see better who he was dealing with. The man was bald. A rough and grizzled pair of mutton chops were jet black with a few strands of silver dispersed throughout. The man's bright green eyes glinted of hatred in the subdued light.

"It's simple, really. We want nothing with her except to hurt you. You, as a state alchemist, have taken so much from the people. So, perhaps it's time the people took something from you. Isn't that what you, as an alchemist, believe? Equivalent exchange?"

Roy looked over the man's shoulders at the sound of Amelie's cry. His teeth were chattering in fury at what he couldn't see. The darkness hid the sight, but his ears were open to the laughing, the begging and sobbing. Like being blind all over again, his sense of sound was heightened and it made his jaw clench.

"So, the question remains, General: who is she to you?"

Roy looked at him, "If you want to hurt me, then hurt _me_. Torture me, beat me, if you want. Leave her alone," his voice softened, his anger turning to desperation.

The man was quiet for a moment. Over the man's shoulder, Roy heard Amelie. She was crying still, and the laughing continued over her repeated screams. He could hear ripping fabric. The sound of skin slapping skin. Gagging sobs and muffled pleas. His eyes were fixated on the blackness, on what he couldn't see.

"Those boys have been waiting for you to arrive so they could have their fun. You know, if you hadn't come at all, she'd have been spared such humiliation," smiling, the man crossed his arms and stepped closer, "Do you want to spare her?"

Roy glared at him for a moment before his attention was back to the pleading screams emanating from the darkness, "Yes."

"Very well. I will put her fate entirely in your hands. You want to be beat on so badly, then so be it. I'll keep my men from finishing what they're starting. I'll even cover her with that pathetic excuse for a uniform like you asked. We'll beat you. Torture you. And the moment you pass out, or ask us to stop, she's fair game. You'll be responsible for what my men do to her. Understood?" the man's voice was sibilant and low, quiet enough that his sister's choked wails still pierced the night.

"Understood," he quickly agreed through clenched teeth, his gaze never leaving the darkness, "Now make them stop."

"Excellent!" the man snapped and gestured to the shadows for his followers to come closer. Lowering his voice, the man leaned in close to Roy and placed his face just next to his. His soft voice was almost impossible to hear. "And, let me just say, I've kept my men from raping her. You give in, I'll make sure you come to when she starts screaming for mercy. My men won't go easy on her anymore."

Roy tried to get some traction on the floor, tried to launch himself at the man, "You bastard!" he screamed.

The man moved away, laughing at him, as Roy swung helplessly. He leaned against a table and Roy saw his sister dragged from the darkness into the pale light. Her top half was exposed and the blood on her face and chest had tear tracks running through it. Her gag had been removed and a sickening ring of moisture surrounded her slack mouth. Replacing her bloodied gag and tying it off, the man nearest to her gave a condescending pat on her cheek. She winced. Her wrists were tied to the table's thick wooden leg. Roy couldn't take his gaze from her. Another man placed his jackets on her and, true to the game, was gentle. The huge coats overwhelmed her smaller frame. They overlapped in the front, covering her body.

That small comfort was yanked away from the forefront of his mind when a fist landed into his gut. He'd taken punches before. If this was all that bastard could do, Roy knew he would win. Soon, he knew, Hawkeye would come for them. And she would no doubt get to rescue his sorry ass and have even more leverage on him. He gulped for air and coughed. He would endure. If it meant saving his little sister, he would do it.

* * *

Alphonse looked around a bit nervously before looking to his older brother. The former Fullmetal Alchemist wasn't about to back down. They'd spent all day tracking down various locations where previous terrorist activity had left a mark. And considering the news that had spread from the hospital regarding an old associate, Al wasn't about to let his brother go out in the middle of the night alone even if he didn't have alchemy anymore. Ed's plan was to rouse Roy Mustang and get on with some half-baked ideas and Al had to see it through if only to ensure that his hard-headed brother didn't cause more trouble than he solved.

"I don't think he's home, brother."

Ed sighed, "Where else could he be? We checked the local haunts. Everyone said he turned in and went straight home from Central."

"Perhaps Captain Hawkeye would know?"

"No, I don't want to bug her."

Al rolled his eyes. Edward knocked again, but there was still no answer at the Mustang residence. Upon trying the door, the younger Elric was shocked to see it unlocked. He and Ed shared a glance. While Mustang might have been confident about his alchemy, he didn't seem the type to leave his door unsecured at night.

"Guess we can go in?"

"Brother..."

Ignoring him, Edward walked in and quickly announced his presence with a call for the General. There was no answer. The house was strangely cool. Cool, dark and, it appeared, empty. Following his brother up the stairs, Alphonse noticed a smokey scent on the second floor. He looked down the corridor while Edward searched the library. A small bit of red ember lit the otherwise eerie hall.

"Brother!" he called out.

Edward joined him and they both looked to the door which had been burnt down. Stepping over the threshold to the bedroom, they saw the signs of a struggle.

"What happened here?" Ed mused aloud.

"Is he not home at all?"

"Let's check the other rooms."

Edward crossed the hall and walked through the open door to what looked to be the General's library. Alchemy books and starched uniforms were in the shelves and closet. The curtains were drawn, but the moonlight filtered through the sheer fabric. Walking around the room, Alphonse felt something give way under his foot. He lifted his small boot to see a piece of crumpled paper in a ball. He reached down for it and opened it, trying to smooth out the handwritten note.

"I think someone was kidnapped?" he handed the note to Ed.

"What? Who?"

"I don't know. It just says 'her'. And there's an address."

"Who would be here with him?

"Should we get the Captain?" Alphonse asked.

He could see the indecision in Edward's face. No doubt, if something had gone down, Hawkeye would want to know about it. Protective as ever, the Captain would be their best bet if something had happened to the General.

* * *

His head swam. His body went slack and the pain in his shoulders made him tense again. The small chuckle beyond his field of vision wasn't his only motivation. Per the terms, Amelie was still untouched. And that was enough to make the aching, throbbing pain bearable. He'd lost almost all feeling in his arms. He didn't even know how long he'd been strung up. The man beating him was methodical. It wasn't like a bar room brawl. He'd dealt with those before. The beatings were quicker, but the pain all melted together. This was different. The men had taken turns. And each was precise. Each hit caused a fresh new wave of pain that ebbed before the next washed over him renewed.

"Hanging in there?" the man taunted.

Roy looked at him and said nothing.

"It's admirable. But you're looking to be at the end of your rope. And you know what happens if you give in."

With renewed determination, Roy spat out the blood which had welled up in his mouth, "You kidding? You haven't even scratched the surface."

It was a complete lie; he knew his body was trembling in pain and exhaustion. His eyes, for all the fire he could muster in his voice, were listless. The individual currently in front of him was awaiting instruction, no doubt. And Roy kept his eyes pinned on the man responsible for all of this. With each passing moment, he could feel his chest shuddering as he tried to breathe. His vision was blurred and had started to go grey at the edges.

"The Flame Alchemist. The Hero of Ishbal. Taking a beating for a woman," The man walked closer, pensive. Roy spat out another collection of blood. Still the man mused aloud, "With those hands, you snapped and created so much death. And yet, here you are, helpless. Without those gloves, you're nothing but another man."

Roy felt a grip on his left hand. He knew it was coming. The way that grip pushed the shackle down a bit and pulled his hand further away from the metal, Roy didn't want to look. He tried to slow his rapid heartbeat. Tried to find some peace before...

His hand was shattered with a pointed twist. The white sparks of pain behind his eyes and the lightning down his arm were too much. He couldn't hold back a scream. The hold on his left hand was released and it sent fresh pain to his brain when his full body weight was held up by his wrists again. His hand was gushing blood that coated the metal and his arm. Bone stuck out of flesh and he tried desperately to get his feet to hold up some of the burden. He couldn't. His body weight was his enemy. He gasped when a hit caught him off guard under his ribcage. The unbidden yelp was cut off and he tried to bury his face into his overextended shoulder.

"You're free to say 'stop' at any time," the man continued to taunt.

Still panting, Roy glared at him.

"No? Well, perhaps we'll have to try something new. After all, we've only covered one of the major torture categories. I think we've exhausted blunt. Now, that still leaves us with sharp, hot, and wet. Have a preference?"

"Get bent," Roy hissed out.

"Very well. Let's give you a taste of your own medicine."

On cue, Roy watched the men before him, all still silent and nameless, give way to a pair who carried a small hamper of items. With white sparks continuing to ignite behind his eyes, he could barely focus on the newest torture being devised. The smell of gasoline, though, was enough to make him weary. His shirt was cut open at the front and pulled back.

"Why the act? If you hate me so much, why not just kill me?" he asked while the blow torch was ignited. That hissing sound had never seemed so menacing before as it did now.

"Because, General, we want to destroy what you stand for. So, when your body is dumped at the steps of Central, you'll not only be powerless, but you'll be so maimed that it'll be hard to recognize you. I'll make sure your defeat stands for something."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. You'll be the warning to all state alchemists. Because if someone so well-known as the Flame Alchemist is cleansed...well, perhaps things will change."

"You'll just bring the whole of the military down on you."

"I should hope so. In turn, when they're defeated, fear will spread all the quicker."

"I'm not losing this fight."

The man smiled at him, "Of course you are. Have no illusions. You will lose. This woman will die. And you will be tossed out as a warning to all of your kind."

The faint glow of white-hot metal caught Roy's attention. A piece of rebar was being held to the torch. The blue flames had done their job. Watching dispassionately as the rebar was heated through, Roy turned his eyes to Amelie when the torch was turned off. He needed to protect her. He had to stay awake. He couldn't let whatever came next drag him into oblivion. She struggled against her restraints and her gag. Her eyes were overflowing with tears.

A thick strip of cloth came down over his face from behind. It was pulled taut against his mouth, a makeshift gag. It kept his lips parted and dug into the corners of his mouth. His head was yanked back. Standing behind him, a man chuckled and held firm onto each end of the fabric. Through the pain of his hand, Roy could feel the man's breath as he chuckled pass by his ear. The metal was still orange-red when it was carried over towards him. His eyes tracked it like a venomous snake. The man holding it had on gloves to protect himself. Roy had been burned by fire before. It came with the territory. He knew what would happen if that metal was pressed to bare skin.

"Be sure not to hit any major organs. We don't want him dying until he's cleansed," the leader stated.

Roy's aplomb was broken. Organs... He barely had time to brace himself when the rebar was thrust into his torso. The man behind him had pushed forward when the searing metal was weaponized and then pulled the gag tighter. He screamed. Vertigo tugged at him and he strained against the fabric, panting and unable to hold back the gulping scream. He could hear Amelie sobbing incoherently in the background. No, no he couldn't close his eyes. He couldn't give in. She needed him to stay awake. The cauterized wound and hot metal in his abdomen was a poison, spreading across his body until every nerve that hadn't been frayed was ignited with searing pain. His breath was shallow; he could feel the metal melting his skin around the wound. He had to stay awake. He had to endure the seeping inferno.

"Have you ever heard the expression: 'time is the fire in which we burn'?"

Roy could barely focus on the voice; his entire mindset was on protecting Amelie. Every fibre in his being wanted to give in. The drips of sweat that stung his eyes barely registered as he dragged in each breath, gulping for relief. His body was quaking from the strain of staying awake.

"It feels somewhat appropriate. Especially in your case. For a man who wielded so much death, you don't seem too anxious to experience it yourself. But, we all do, of course. Time burns us alive until there's nothing left.

"For example... this young woman. You're willing to burn for her. Yet, if you take yourself out of the world and leave her in, how long do you think it will be before she succumbs herself? What good does it do you to stall her end? That's all it would be; stalling."

Roy's eyes met those of his antagonist. He couldn't argue. He knew, more than most, just how fragile life was. He knew that in some way, Amelie would die. Whether it be another fifty years or another week, she would die. All he could hope for was a peaceful death. A painless death. And that peaceful death wasn't here, in this abandoned warehouse, with the sight of her brother chained and beat upon in front of her. His gag was removed and he licked his lips.

"Even…if I believed you...it wouldn't change…what I'm doing," he panted out.

"See, now I'm just curious. Even I never thought you would give so much for one woman."

Roy managed a smile, "Guess you'll just have to keep wondering."

"No. We'll beat it out of you soon enough," the man looked to one of the henchmen and nodded with a bemused smirk.

A man approached and grabbed at the rebar. Roy closed his eyes, trying to steel himself against whatever was about to come. He could feel pressure. Pressure and the pain of the metal against his insides. The man holding onto it pushed back. Roy could only gape with wide eyes in silent pain. His own weight his enemy again, he could feel his body creep forward along the metal rod. He could barely get a breath in before he let out a howl of agony. Guttural gulps came unbidden from deep in his throat. The man pushed the rebar further back. His body continued to be impaled. It wasn't hot enough to make the motion easy. He could feel the metal as it tried to push through the last third of his torso. Gasping, he couldn't stop bellowing.

All he had to do was say 'stop'. It would be over. He could end it. But then Amelie...

He screamed. His head snapped back before jolting forward again. His wail didn't ease the pain; it kept on as he was slowly run through. The man tormenting him continued to push ever slowly, patiently back, letting his own body do more damage to itself. With each breath, his felt a scream leave his lips. His sobbing cry sounded pathetic even to his own ears which were filled with the drum of his racing heart.

"Who is she, General?"

Roy kept his chin tucked to his chest. His teeth were tight together and still his screams managed to escape. A sudden respite and he was breathing fast and hard to regain his composure. The pressure had stopped for a moment and he was allowed to dangle there. His whole bodied quivered uncontrollably.

The man who was questioning moved closer, perplexed and amused, hands folded behind his back, "Who is she? You know you'll pass out soon. And then we'll have our fun with her. At least let me know who my boys are going to rape to death," he whispered.

All Roy could do was shake his head. He wouldn't let his sister be touched again. His haggard, pained breaths were loud against the silence.

"Please..."

"Please, what?"

"L-let her...go."

"There's no escape for her."

A fresh flicker of pain ran through his veins and he whimpered. So undignified. His entire body was trembling. He couldn't even bring himself to look to Amelie. She deserved better. A better brother, a better life. Every scrape she'd been in had ever been because of him. This man didn't even know who she was. This vendetta was against him, not her.

"Roy..." came her frail voice.

His gaze snapped up to see her gag had been removed. Those black eyes were so like his own. Even with the pain she was no doubt in, there was a resolve there. They were both obstinate. They were both aware of what dangers the world had to offer.

"I'm...so sorry," she said softly.

His heart broke. All of this, and she was apologizing to him. Him, the older brother who had abandoned her and disowned their relation. Him, the man who had snapped at her in the past with the intent of erasing her existence. He had never once deserved to have so devoted a sister.

"Tell her it'll be all right, Mustang," the man whispered.

"We'll be...we'll be fine. We'll...get out of here."

The man laughed and grabbed the rebar again. Roy gasped at even that slight motion. Eyes clenched, he tried to restrain the scream as the man lifted upwards on the bar. It was jerked again and that scream escaped. The primal bellow that came from deep in his throat drowned out the pleas of his sister.


	6. Recovery

**Recovery**

Naomi watched from above; the small gathering of soldiers meant Ren's time had run out. Roderick hadn't been able to make it back in time and she knew her orders. Shouldering the long gun, she laid prone on the adjacent rooftop. The shattered skylights of the occupied warehouse let her see her main target. She tracked his motion and waited. He was too close to the Flame and Roderick had been clear that the alchemist wasn't to be killed until after he'd been cleansed. Below, the soldiers took up positions. She cursed quietly to herself. Ren was too busy inflicting pain on the alchemist to notice anything else.

The Flame roared in agony when Ren pushed the rebar upwards and inwards. She would have to take the chance and end it while he was close to the alchemist. Her finger squeezed slightly.

Ren stopped and moved away. He charged across the warehouse to a closer wall. Grimacing, Naomi adjusted her sight for the steeper angle and turned her sight on. He'd knelt down, talking to the woman used to lure the Flame. She had her opening...

* * *

The quick check of the perimeter had revealed that the building was in fact occupied. Having been retrieved by Edward and Alphonse, Riza Hawkeye had wasted no time in assembling a team to run to the rescue. The dark section of town normally had little life in it after the sun went down. The lone warehouse with blacked out windows had dim lights inside and matched the address the General had been given. Her team had taken up positions in a few different positions; all of them were ready to fight whatever and who-ever was inside.

Her blood ran cold at the sound of an unholy howl from inside the building. That pain, that vibrato, she recognized unmistakably as Mustang. Edward and Alphonse shared a glance next to her, no doubt aware that the General had been the source of that tortured scream.

She gave the signal.

* * *

Amelie could only watch, weak and broken, while Roy was tortured there not fifteen feet away. She cursed her concussion. Her alchemy should have solved everything. It should have been the cure. As jumbled as her brain was, she doubted she could even affect those men who were making sport of her brother.

Her floating gaze caught sight of a silhouette in the skylight above. Turning her gaze slightly, she could see a flurry of movement through the hazy window pane. If they were reinforcements, they would need to have an upper hand. With her brother in his precarious position, any newcomer would no doubt be forced to surrender at the threat of ending his life.

Maybe, just maybe, she could summon one hefty transmutation.

Roy's scream made her look back to him. The main man who'd orchestrated all this pushed hard against the metal bar in her brother's lower torso. Even with his injuries, he writhed. One good fist clenched and unclenched around air in agony. His pale complexion was sallow. Sweat dripped down his face. Those normally obsidian eyes were jaded and glazed as soon as the first wave of pain was done.

"Please..." she begged.

The man smiled and turned to look to her. That glare was menacing, threatening even as he kept his distance, "Do you want to spare him?"

She nodded. Behind the man, her brother's ragdoll frame shuddered and he gulped in air, "No..."

"Then perhaps you can shed some light onto my curiosity."

She nodded again. Roy's downcast face held her attention. So much pain. His shivering body was torn and battered. The blood that drained down his body had stained his clothes and made a puddle under his swaying feet. In the cold, the edges had started to freeze.

"So, who are you?"

Her confidence shattered for a moment. Roy had endured so much to keep her untouched. Would it all be in vain?

"Hey!" the man shouted. She flinched as he stormed over to her and grabbed her throat, "Pay attention to me!" he yelled at her before his face became a placid facade again, "Or else things will get worse."

Over the man's shoulder, she saw Roy's head grabbed by his mopped hair. They forced his head back to expose the white column of flesh that was strained with pain. A sharp yelp of pain made her eyes water up.

"So...who are you?"

She was shaking under his grip, "I'm..."

Her hesitation cost Roy his momentary reprieve. Slowly, the rebar was pulled from his flesh. Her brother writhed and screamed in animalistic pain as the beam was removed inch by inch. Now cooled, it had flesh attached to it from the previous inferno that tore and frayed as the metal was pulled away. Fresh blood from a previously cauterized wound poured out of his body. They took so long removing that bar that he had to breathe in again before howling anew. Raw, without any pitch of humanity in it. Even when the bar was completely out, he was still sobbing and convulsing.

She saw a red dot on the man's forehead. Recognizing the sniper's aim, she didn't let on.

"I'll say again: who are you?"

She looked at him through her tousled strands of white hair, "I'm…I'm the Soul Alchemist, dumb ass."

His furrowed brow exploded in a paroxysm of blood and brain matter. She had her opening and delved deep into her alchemical prowess. Turning the warehouse into a conduit, she let the gate tear away the souls that were closest to Roy and herself. The golden glow enveloped them. The energy that surged through her was almost uncontrollable with her weakened mind. She could feel the eye upon her, those black tendrils begging for every ounce of her being. Her breath shuddered and her eyes watered over. Her mind's form tried to race ahead of the darkness, to outrun it and close the Gate before it sucked everyone in. A cry of pain at the energy passing through and tearing her apart and she thrust what little she had left into slamming shut the black doors, leaving the living alive and herself trapped in the void.

* * *

Edward had seen some large transmutations. He'd felt that pull before, too. With the unmistakable ebb of the Gate closing, he stopped dead in his tracks. So too did Al. A soft golden glow lit the building from the inside. Afraid for the first soldiers storming the doors, Edward readied to call out a halt. The glow subsided and retracted. Frozen in trepidation, Edward and his brother looked to each other. But the urgency of the General's situation moved them forward. Running through the barraged doors, he surveyed the scene. The few remaining terrorists fled. Edward didn't blame them. The echoes of that last alchemic maneuver still had his soul aching. Bodies were strewn about the place and were frozen in the throes of deathly pain. Blood drained from their hollow eye sockets and their skin looked to be shrunken and tearing at the stress. Off to the side was Mustang. His body was swaying gently. Blood fell steadily from his middle and collected under his feet.

"General!" Hawkeye searched for a release to his bindings. Alphonse followed and clapped before placing his hands on the chains. He purposefully didn't complete the transmutation and let the disintegrating metal give way. The bastard General collapsed unceremoniously to the puddle of blood on the concrete floor. Bracing his fall, Hawkeye went down with him and knelt in the half-frozen crimson stain. One look and Ed knew they'd arrived only just in time. The General was unconscious, his face sallow and pale and highlighted with sweat.

His younger brother knelt beside the General and quickly activated a Xingese alchemical circle to staunch the blood flow. The reprieve from the pain made Mustang cough and open his dull eyes.

"He needs to get to the hospital," Al said to Hawkeye.

For her part, she was cradling his head on her lap. His eyes focused on her and the thick bobbing of his throat even looked to pain him. It looked for a moment like he was about to succumb to vertigo again. Hawkeye gently roused him, "General, stay awake for us!"

"Amelie..." he mumbled; his eyes were half-lidded and it sounded like rocks had taken up residence in the back of his throat.

"Who?" Ed asked.

Again his eyes closed and his head was a dead weight in Hawkeye's hands. She called to him again, and he fought to remain cognizant. Turning his head to look to the shadows, Ed and Al followed his gaze. Havoc rushed over and knelt down. A petite woman with white hair was slumped against the floor, her hands held up by a rope tied to a leg of the adjacent table. Her lidded eyes were bruised and swollen and her tiny body was overwhelmed by the General's military jacket. Havoc blushed and promptly covered her half-exposed chest with the black overcoat the General usually donned.

Mustang winced, "Amelie..." his voice was more pained than it had been a moment before.

Havoc looked back over to them, "She isn't breathing."

Mustang's face twisted in pain and panic, "No... She can't..." his eyes looked to Alphonse, pleading. Edward had never seen him like this. Blood dribbled from his mouth when he spoke, "Alphonse... Help her."

Looking between the General and the young woman, Ed watched his younger brother cross the distance quickly and gently touch her lithe neck for a pulse. His hesitation told Edward he had found one, but that it was weakening. Drawing another medical alchemy circle, he activated it. The blue light illuminated her figure. She started to cough and Havoc cut the ropes holding her arms up. He wrapped the jacket around her tighter and lifted her from the frozen ground. Her eyes never opened, but Ed watched relief overcome the First Lieutenant's face.

He looked down to Mustang, "She's alive. We need to get you to a hospital."

Shocked and sobered at the General's lack of resistance, Ed helped lay the battered man onto the newly arrived stretcher with Hawkeye. Even with the gentle grip he and Hawkeye used, the General writhed in pain and couldn't hold back a yelp and gasp. Two of the accompanying soldiers lifted it and moved quickly to the awaiting transport. Hawkeye stayed at his side and Ed couldn't say he was surprised. He looked back over to his brother. He'd followed Havoc as the taller man carried her across the warehouse; her silvery hair fell like a waterfall over his embrace and was stained with dirt and blood. Ushering them into the transport as well, Ed clambered in himself and left the investigation to the professionals. He had more pressing matters to look to.

He'd felt the gate opened. Someone had to have done it. And the name 'Amelie' was unsettling; some urban legends had named their antagonist that very name he was sure.

Looking back to Mustang, Ed surveyed the damage. His former superior, normally pale, was ghostly pallid. His eyes looked clouded. Dark circles were clinging to his eyes and his black hair was matted with clotted blood. The right hand which had escaped being broken was held tight in Hawkeye's. The sight of her holding back tears reminded Ed just how important each was to the other.

Jean still held fast to the young woman they'd recovered. They'd heard no words and her gaze hadn't focused on anything. She looked, for all intents and purposes, like she were catatonic. The slow rise and fall of her chest was the only indication that she hadn't passed on.

* * *

Walking hastily through echoing corridors with a formidable rifle on her back meant the sparse crowd gave her a wide berth. Roderick hadn't been in his room and the sentry said he'd been seen in the arena. As she got closer, she could hear his message reverberating through the dank halls. The assembly who'd gathered to hear him was entranced by the thought of equality; many had suffered at the hands of alchemists and more simply despised the human weapons for allowing themselves to be used as such.

Staying on the side of the platform, away from view of the crowd, she waited. Roderick was nearing the end of his speech. Listening to his fervor calmed her. She knew her orders had been clear but even so she felt guilty at killing one of their own.

The end of the oration saw the crowd cheer and clap sending a palpable buzz of energy through the cavernous space. Roderick waved goodbye and headed her way. Seeing her, his hands went behind his back and he straightened.

"And?" he asked while he continued to stride away.

She fell in step with him, "I carried out your orders. The military came to claim the Flame but something else happened."

"What?"

"A transmutation; one like I've never seen before. The whole building was glowing and when it went away, most of our men were dead. The two that survived were hauled off not too long after the Flame was rescued," she swallowed hard when the screams of her own rang fresh in her mind. She hadn't seen the carnage afterwards but she'd seen the beginning of it. Choking, gulping and writhing on the floor while blood drained from every orifice. Men clawing at their throats while spasms rocked their bodies. She'd gagged on the sharp smell of metallic copper mixed with the stench of defecation from the ravaged bodies.

"Did the Flame cause the transmutation?"

"I don't think he could've. Ren had fun."

"Then that means our lovely, white-haired girl was likely the culprit. Impressive considering the state she was in when Ren picked her up."

"Should I try to get to the others and make sure they don't speak?"

"Who was left?"

"Augota and Hiram."

Roderick sighed and hesitated in his stroll, "Don't bother. I doubt they know anything of consequence."

"And what of the white-haired woman?"

"We'll keep an eye on her. She seems to be the Flame's weakness right now. He's still the priority, though. Formidable as she is, she's an unknown. Cleansing her will accomplish nothing for us."

"Of course, sir."

"Stay close to the Flame. I need to know when he gets back on his feet."

Naomi couldn't help the grin on her face. She'd managed to see the man hauled off before she'd made her retreat. He was pale, bloody, hardly more than a shell of who'd been in earlier in the evening, "It may be a while, sir."

Roderick smiled back at her, "Perfect."

* * *

The hospital knew they were coming. The buzz and energy of the emergency room was palpable. They moved Mustang onto a rolling stretcher bed and placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. Hawkeye stayed with him each step of the way. She wasn't about to let him out of her sight. She'd kept a gently firm hold of his hand the entire ride over and wasn't planning to let go.

Doctors and orderlies were reading out numbers and statistics. Mustang's eyes were calmly pained. She had no doubt he was in shock from the severity of his wounds. Wounds which never should have happened. He was the Flame Alchemist. Why had he gone into a dangerous situation without his gloves? How could those men have gained any advantage over him long enough to chain him they way he'd been found?

His hand tightened on hers and she leaned in closer. His lips were moving beneath the oxygen mask. She couldn't hear him. Taking his hand from hers, he pulled the mask down and focused on her with those obsidian orbs. She continued to lean down next to him, waiting patiently.

"Amelie..."

"Yes?"

He nodded slowly, "Pro...protect her. Hide...her. No...no one can...know..."

"Alphonse is with her."

"No. You...must...protect her...for...me..." he gulped out.

She swallowed hard, "I will once you're seen to, General. Just rest."

"Please..."

It was the please that got her. He'd almost never used that word. Not in recent memory, not with her. She nodded once more, "I'll find you when she's secured."

Relief washed over him. He took her hand again and she could see the barest pain-drunk smile. His eyes closed and she moved the mask back over his nose and mouth. Her pace slowed and then stopped all together. His hand was pulled from her own and she watched him go down that antiseptic hallway alone. They dashed him through a set of double swinging doors.

Just like that, he was gone. Those doors swung closed behind him and she stood there as a statue for a moment. The man she'd sworn to protect had asked her to watch over someone else.

Turning quickly to march down the hallway, she found the room she was searching for. While Mustang had been immediately hauled into surgery to repair the damage to his hand and middle, his sister had sustained less-threatening injuries and was already in a room with doctors attending to her. Jean, Edward and Alphonse were outside the window looking in. Hawkeye ignored them when they called after her.

Opening the door to Amelie's room, she stood to her full height, "Leave now. All of you."

Alphonse came up beside her, "She's injured."

Again, she ignored the younger Elric, "Now," she lowered her voice.

The nurses looked to the doctor who kept his eyes on hers. After a heavy pause, he started walking out. The nurses followed. As they left, she drew the curtains to the viewing window and hid the room from passerby gawking.

"What's going on, Captain?" Jean walked up to her.

"Everyone needs to clear out. General's orders," she looked to the Fullmetal Alchemist. While he may have once ranked higher than she did and could no doubt override her, she knew he respected the General for as much grief as they'd given each other over the years. She could only hope he would listen. Seeing Jean's jaw clench, she gave a subtle nod for him to head out. She could handle this and the fewer people being questioned by the inquisitive Elric's meant the less chance of protected information being revealed. Jean begrudgingly left the room after considering Amelie one last time.

"I'm not leaving her," Alphonse stated, moving past her to sit at the young woman's bed. She watched him for a moment. While she had bet that Edward would have given her trouble, she never suspected Alphonse to be the one she had to verbally spar with. "You can't order me around, Captain Hawkeye," he finished politely.

"If Al's staying, so am I," Ed closed the door behind himself and walked in to stand next to his brother.

She sighed, "Fine. Alphonse, can you help stabilize her?"

The younger alchemist nodded and slowly got to work. While his clapping could produce transmutations, Riza had always been mesmerized by his work in Xingese techniques. He'd become a teacher of the technique to many of their own state alchemists, even if he chose not to be awarded that mantle himself.

"So, who is she?" Edward looked to her while Al worked.

"A civilian. I don't know much more than that," she lied.

"The General obviously does," Ed sighed.

"He'll inform us if he sees fit to."

Edward was quiet for a moment, "Before we stormed the building, there was a transmutation. A large one."

"I saw it," she confirmed, "Breda is interrogating the terrorists we captured to see which of them performed it."

"I don't think it was them," Alphonse said quietly, "I think it was her."

Hawkeye stared at the young woman. She appeared to be in no shape to perform a transmutation on that scale. But Alphonse wasn't guessing. Something had convinced him of that fact.

"Al, there wasn't a transmutation circle," Ed pointed out.

"I know, brother, but - this is going to sound strange - when I touched her, I could feel the Gate."

"You felt it?" Hawkeye asked.

He nodded, "My body being there all those years might have something to do with it. But I felt like I was there again when I held her. Brother, you don't think she's..." he trailed off, looking to the older Elric.

"Mustang called her Amelie. The stories might just be true, then."

"What?" Hawkeye asked, trying to hide her impatience.

Edward looked to her, "There's mention of a Soul Alchemist in a few military records who could perform transmutations psychically. In the stories, she was a killer. She killed a dozen soldiers in cold blood before vanishing to another country."

"Her name was Amelie Rochester," Al finished quietly.

"So if this is the Soul Alchemist, that begs the question: why would Mustang be protecting her?" Ed crossed his arms and stared at the woman in the bed.

* * *

Roy felt weightless. There was no pain. No seeping tiredness. The whiteness around him wasn't so much a bother as a comfort. A floating doorway loomed in front of him. He recognized it from the transmutation he'd been forced to perform. Yet, somehow, he didn't feel threatened. For the life of him, he didn't know how he'd gotten here.

"I brought you," a small voice said behind him.

He turned to see his sister. She was radiant and full of life. Her smile was warm. And those eyes didn't reflect the pain she'd been forced to endure, "Amelie? Is this...is this the Gate?"

She nodded, walking closer to him and looking to the doorway. He turned again and looked at it. She smiled, "It is."

"Are we...dead?"

She shot him a knowing look that only a sister could deliver, "No, silly. I was finally able to do alchemy. This is where I come to rest. Our bodies have been injured. This helps us heal."

"But won't it open?"

"No."

"And how did I get here?"

"I brought you, I said. It's my fault, after all..."

"What?"

"Those men. What they did to you. It's my fault," she lowered her gaze to the nonexistent floor.

He squared off with her, putting the Gate to his back, "No. It's not your fault. I went because you're my responsibility. My sister. And I...and I have a lot to make up for. I haven't exactly been the best brother."

"Roy..."

"No. I should have defended you."

"You did what you had to," it seemed she was saying it to convince herself more than anything.

He sighed and looked around the vast whiteness, "So, this is what you can do. Was that you, back in the warehouse?"

Her face was suddenly forlorn and her eyes drifted downwards, "Yes."

"What did you do?"

"I killed them. Those men hurting you. I killed them all."

Roy froze. So casual. So effortless. He couldn't say he wouldn't have done the same if he were forced to watch what she had. But to hear it so matter-of-factly… His throat tightened. He pushed forward. He'd been ignorant of her alchemy for so long and had just discounted it for murder. Knowing, even the theory behind it, would perhaps relieve his fear of her ability.

"How?"

"I dragged them into the Gate. Tore their souls from their bodies. The body can't survive without a soul, you know."

"You did what you had to," he echoed her sentiment and watched her eyes fill with tears.

"I feel everything, brother. When their souls pass through me to the Gate... All of it becomes mine. Their lives, the pain of death... I hate doing alchemy. I wish this skill had never been given to me," she looked at her hands and a droplet of her pain landed on the immaculate skin.

He took them in his own, "I know what it's like to have blood there when no one else can see it, Amelie. It gets easier. You tell yourself you did what you had to to protect those you cared about. That's the best any of us can do."

"You'll need to be back, soon. Your body is waking up," she changed the subject quickly, quietly, and pulled her hands from his.

"I'd rather keep you company here."

She shook her head and turned away, walking, "I'm alone here. Always alone here."

"When will you wake up?" he called after her.

"When I'm stronger."

Like coming up for air, he inhaled deep and felt the coolness of it refresh his face and body. That omnipresent warmth was gone, but he could still feel the tingle of it. Opening his eyes, he saw hospital lights. The pain he expected didn't rush him. Blissful numbness was overwhelming the dull throbs of wounds. He blinked a few times and felt his stiff body only barely move when he commanded it. The gentle beeps of the nearby machines slowly started to register. Antiseptic burned his nostrils.

"You're awake," a familiar voice sounded bemused.

Turning to look at the source, he saw Fullmetal sitting in a chair only a few feet away. The younger man waited patiently for a moment. When Mustang said nothing, still trying to collect his thoughts, he spoke up.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine...how do I feel fine?" he asked. In truth, he felt better than fine. The tingle from the Gate wasn't fading and even seemed to make his body feel lighter than it should.

"They pumped you full of morphine. Think that might have something to do with it. The doc said it'll wear off eventually, but that you'll be right as rain until it does. Still have some serious healing to do, though. Those men sure did a number on you."

"So it would seem," he looked to the cast on his left hand and the intravenous tubes and needles in his right, "How long was I out?"

"Three days."

"That long..." it felt like he'd only been at the Gate for a moment with her, not for three days. Yet, somehow, he wasn't surprised. Whether it was the morphine or the lingering effects from the Gate, he felt better than he supposed he should. Had Amelie been responsible…"Where's Captain Hawkeye?" he asked, quickly remembering that he'd asked his subordinate to watch over his sister.

"She went home to take care of Hiyate and get changed. She'll be back soon."

The sudden panic ebbed and he relaxed. If Hawkeye had left, it meant Amelie was stable enough to be alone. And while she'd hinted that she'd be at the Gate for the next stretch of time, Roy didn't fancy the idea that his sister would succumb to darkness on his watch.

"So, who's the girl?" Fullmetal asked.

Roy didn't bother looking at him. Those golden eyes bore a tangible hole into his soul, ready to puncture a story fed to him if need be. From the question, Roy could only assume Ed had formed his own conclusions. Reckless as the young man was, he wasn't easy to fool and had a good bit of brain inside that head, "Her name's Amelie. She's a civilian caught in the crossfire," Roy sighed.

Edward was quick to call his bluff, "Really? 'Cause Al says she's the one who performed a huge transmutation just before we rushed in there to save your sorry ass. With a name like Amelie, that leads me to one very different conclusion."

"Whatever conclusion you come to is your prerogative. Just keep it to yourself. She doesn't concern you."

"How'd they chain you up? And why were your gloves in a pail of water?"

Roy remained silent for a moment before tilting his head back into the pillow and closing his eyes, "If you don't mind, Fullmetal, I need to rest."

Edward fumed for a moment. Roy could hear it even with his eyes closed; he could envision that frustrated face. But, true to his nature, the younger alchemist would only push so far. A heavy sigh was the only sound for a long, tense moment, "A lot happened while you were out."

Mustang's eyes opened and he looked to Ed. He looked to be swallowing glass at the mere thought of whatever had transpired, "And?"

"Lieutenant-Colonel Armstrong was attacked the same night we got you. The guy didn't take his alchemy, though. On the radio, the Republic took credit for putting you here in the hospital. Another explosion, too. Kain got with the local academy and found out that four kids haven't shown up for classes in a week, at least. Two at the most."

He cursed under his breath. The blonde was still grimacing and had turned his eyes to the ground.

"What else?"

"They killed Lieutenant-Colonel Royce."

Roy turned his gaze to the ceiling. Royce? Dead? He pushed the anger clawing at his heart down and sighed heavily, evenly, trying to suffocate the vengeful fire he wanted to satisfy, "Have we learned anything from the warehouse?"

Ed shook his head, "The guys were able to nab two of the terrorists. They've said nothing. But they're afraid. Whatever Amelie did to their comrades, they had a front row seat and it left an impression. Can't say I blame them. The others were a grisly sight."

"If they're afraid of her, that might give us an edge. Fullmetal, I need you to speak with the doctors. I need to be moved into her room."

"Why? She's still out cold. Even Al can't wake her up."

"Just do this, Fullmetal. For me."

Another heavy sigh and he nodded. Leaving the room, Roy looked to the window. The bright sun outside was no doubt made brighter by the snow. Something nagged at him. He knew he'd seen Amelie there, at the Gate. He knew they talked. But as the moments lingered on, he couldn't remember what she had said which at the time seemed so important. How long she would be there dictated how he made his next move. While he was sure the morphine pumping through his system was responsible for his ability to ignore the dull throb of pain around his torso, he also found himself sure that his wounds were much less severe than they'd been three days ago.

Would she wake up before another State Alchemist was made an example of?

* * *

The reflection staring back at her was pathetic. Her mascara had left trails of dark blue under her eyes that ran down her cheeks. The blonde hair which she'd always kept so prim and proper was a wet mess. Stepping out of the shower, she'd caught sight of herself in the mirror. She didn't have time to properly clean up, but a shower was the best she could do. She would wipe the mascara stains from her face the first chance she got.

The shower hadn't been what caused them, after all. Riza had come home after another exhausting stay at the hospital to get changed and clean up. One step into her apartment, behind a locked door, she had collapsed and cried. As much as she couldn't blame herself for Roy's situation, she still felt the guilt on her shoulders. The what-ifs ran through her brain and her eyes started to well up again as she stared at herself in the mirror. It didn't help that, the first night he'd stayed in the hospital, she'd come home to hear his message asking for backup.

The phone rang. Leaving the vanity, she tightened the knot on her towel and picked up the headset before the second ring, "This is Hawkeye," she answered; her voice betrayed nothing of the emotion she felt.

" _It's Edward. Just thought you should know that Mustang's awake. And he's being moved into Amelie's room. He insisted."_

"Thank you, Ed. I'll be there as soon as I can."

 _"No problem. We can handle him for a while longer. You should get some sleep."_

She couldn't help but smile at his gentle concern, "I'll be fine. You can tell the General I'll be there soon."

 _"Okay. I'll tell him."_

The click of the line and she softened her posture. Placing the headset back down on the receiver, she sighed. At least he was up and cognizant enough to be ordering others around. And while she knew of the uneasy history between him and his sister, she was relieved he was so hell-bent on protecting her. In her mind, the rift separating them had been partially mended. She didn't know how the others would handle the relation, but she would protect Amelie. He'd trusted her enough to do so, and she wouldn't betray that.

* * *

She looked so peaceful. The syncopated thrum of her breaths and the beeping machines was a dull hum that enveloped the room. Sitting in his own bed, watching, Roy couldn't help but relax at the sight. She was calm and the fear he'd had about her being stuck in some agonizing limbo was all but erased, "She hasn't been up at all?" he asked towards Alphonse.

The younger Elric shook his head, "No. But most of her less-serious wounds have sealed up. It's like she's making her body work faster."

Roy nodded, "And what about the more-serious wounds?"

"They won't be serious for much longer. I've never seen anything like it."

"Is it alchemy?" Ed asked.

"I don't know," Al admitted.

His own body still feeling stronger by the moment, Roy remained quiet. While the two young men had seen him so badly beaten, they were too focused on Amelie to notice his own wounds quickly fading into mere annoyances. Even now, the hole which had been burned through his torso felt almost full again, the muscle beneath the skin mending and rebuilding. Even his hand which had been shattered seemed strong enough to be out of the cast it was in.

"Why'd you give yourself up for her?" Ed asked bluntly.

Alphonse cast a silencing look, "Brother..."

Roy exhaled deeply, "They hurt her because of me. If I hadn't cooperated, they would have killed her."

"You said she was just a random civilian."

"So I should have let her be killed?"

"You don't seem the type to not risk it. If you had your gloves on, why give up?"

Mustang looked between Ed and his younger brother before he set his sights again on Amelie, "Sometimes, Fullmetal, it isn't worth the risk."

The two brothers turned to look at the door as it opened. Hawkeye walked in and Roy could see the relief on her face. No doubt, he'd made her cry again. As each time had proven before, he hated knowing he was responsible for it. Not that she let it show. She was the image of calm, the epitome of professional detachment.

"Captain," he stated noncommittally.

"Sir. Glad to see you up and about."

That sentence carried so much. To anyone, it was a simple statement void of compassion. But he had learned Hawkeye's language. Emotions were strung like thick cord around every word and he could only nod his understanding.

"I assume you have a report?"

"Yes, sir. Our team combed the warehouse. There were definite ties to the Republic, and it seems they had been following your movements. We found notes on your residence, patterns, and even the route you took to work. This wasn't a random situation. It appears they waited until they were sure they could overpower you," her eyes darted quickly to Amelie, "The two men we have in custody have remained silent, but they have shown fear at what they witnessed that night."

Roy nodded, digesting her carefully chosen words. Drawing back his shoulders, he straightened, "Captain, please bring me my uniform. I want to visit our prisoners. Do not travel without an escort. They've targeted me, so all of our team must be on alert and avoid giving these people any kind of easy target."

"Sir, you haven't been released, yet," Hawkeye countered him softly.

He breathed deep. Throwing his legs over the side of the feeble bed, he stood, without a grimace, with his bare feet on the cold linoleum floor. For a moment, his chocolate-eyed Captain was speechless.

"I believe our alchemist friend has had a hand in my speedy recovery," he allowed dismissively, "So, fetch the doctor and see about having me discharged."

She nodded almost dumbly, "Yes, sir."

The quick clip of her military boots and she was off, following orders. Mustang sighed and supposed he should be all the more grateful to his sister. In one week, she had done more to help him than he had in a lifetime for her. He couldn't help but notice the uncertain stares from the Elric brothers, "Is there a problem?"

Al was the first to nod, "There's no way medical alchemy could repair that kind of damage so quickly. Triage, yes. But recreating that much tissue? It's scientifically impossible."

Roy sighed. His gaze was on his sleeping sister. She still looked peaceful. Her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm. He had to admit just how much he didn't know: to what extent she could affect matter and ignore the seemingly concrete rules of equivalent exchange; not to mention how she could be unconscious and still facilitate his own recovery along with her own. And with the deep gold gazes fixated on him, he knew the two geniuses were forming their own theories. He moved painlessly to a seat on the other side of her bed and kept his eyes on her.

"I'm afraid we don't know much about her. She's a powerful alchemist. Earlier this week, she intervened on my behalf when the Republic caught me unprepared. She was injured. I took her in. The cowards decided to use her as bait. I knowingly walked into a trap. And that was where you found me."

"So it _was_ her at the warehouse. She opened the Gate and somehow killed all those men," Edward crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in appreciation, eyeing her with renewed skepticism, "Why would she be helping you?"

Roy didn't have to lie when he answered, "I don't know."


	7. Justified

**Justified**

Sitting across from the sleeping woman, Jean Havoc couldn't take his gaze off her. While he supposed he'd be more useful at interrogating terrorists and doing legwork, he didn't mind one bit that the General had posted him at this bedside, alongside this woman. Up until now, guarding Amelie had fallen to Hawkeye, while Edward and Alphonse had stayed vigilant over Mustang. With the General's recovery, the task of protecting Amelie now fell to him and the younger Elric.

Ever since finding her in that warehouse, half bare to the elements, Havoc hadn't been able to sleep through the night. The days while Mustang had been unconscious were exhausting as he combed through letters which Hawkeye had procured. Letters which were heavy with pain. Letters which had been penned for Maes Hughes. Each of them, somewhere, held a fragile hope that she would be reunited with family again. Now she was, and this was her fate.

Amelie's brow furrowed. He sat up straight, moving to the edge of his seat. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and she inhaled deeper. He saw the tiniest of motions behind her eyelids. He smiled and stood, taking a cautious step closer to the bed.

A diamond wall sprang up around her, slicing off the last foot of the bed. Havoc barely had the sense to backpedal and avoid the ragged juts which formed and pushed outward like spikes. The shattered bed clattered on the floor on both sides and Alphonse stood so fast the chair fell to the ground. Swallowing down his heart which had leapt into his throat, Jean touched the wall.

"Amelie?" he asked.

"Please, don't take me back! You don't have to follow orders!" she begged.

Confused, he looked down at his own person. The Amestrian blues. He hadn't been wearing them when she'd last met him. Did she even know it was him? Or had she seen just the slightest movement of blue and defended herself?

"Amelie, it's me. Jean," he softened his voice, hoping to instill some trust; she was silent. He swallowed back nerves and moved closer to the wall, keeping his hand on it. The frosted crystal only let him see a shadow beyond, "I'm not here to take you back anywhere. The General posted me here to protect you."

Alphonse moved to put his hands together. Jean shook his head and deterred the younger man. His own gut doing somersaults, he sighed, "I'm here to keep you safe. How can I do that? What do you need?"

The only thing he could hear for a moment was his own thundering heart. He had no wish to end up like those terrorists at the pub, the warehouse. But, he wasn't about to let her be alone through this, either. Yet, a shadow came closer to the wall on the other side.

"Can you get me out of this place?"

"Yes."

"Where will you take me, then?"

"We can go to my flat. You'll be safe there."

Another thick, anxious silence. The shadow moved away from the wall and Havoc's heart beat faster, his hand falling to his side. Had he lost her trust so quickly? No, her alchemy hadn't been reactivated. She was thinking. Maybe about how to kill him? Or how to outrun him? Neither option left him relieved. He wanted to push for an answer. Wanted to make sure she knew she was truly safe, even in this government hospital in the middle of Central. Still, he stayed quiet.

"Okay," came the demure response.

Havoc looked to Alphonse and hitched his thumb towards the door. Those golden eyes hesitated, but then the younger man nodded and silently left the room to let the General know what was transpiring. Jean looked back to the diamond in front of him. The wall became less of one, more a window. Behind it, he could finally make out Amelie's ivory countenance.

Staring at him, the diamond wall turned back to air at her command. He was left gazing at those gorgeous, deep onyx eyes. He couldn't help that a half-baked smile came to his lips.

She swallowed hard and crossed her arms over her chest, "How can I trust you?"

He outstretched his hand and didn't have to even consider the answer, "Because I trust you."

Her eyes looked to his willing hand. Her touch could kill, he'd seen that. Her alchemy could destroy him. Still, the nagging fear was gone when those eyes looked back to him. One hand still clutching to the modest hospital robe, the other reached across the space between them. Her palm laid flat in his. Her skin was like spring water, brisk to the touch and sending a tingle down his spine. But her smile, it was warm.

* * *

Roy watched dispassionately the two men who'd been detained from the warehouse. They were covered in blood. Most of it, he assumed, was his. Breda was still trying to get information from them but, according to Hawkeye and Fullmetal, they'd given up nothing. Images raced through his mind; he knew he'd seen Amelie at the Gate, unharmed and cogent. Still, their conversation was fading by the hour. He knew he'd spoken to her. But about what?

"The bodies at the warehouse were found in the same manner as the ones from the pub," Hawkeye said softly.

"All except one," Edward interjected, "One had his brains blown out his head right in front of your civilian."

"You were able to shoot one?" Roy looked to Hawkeye.

"No, sir. We had no snipers."

"Then how...?"

"I was hoping you could tell us, sir."

"Amelie's never fired a gun before; not to my knowledge. I'm surprised she was able to transmute anything at all, let alone shoot a man in the head."

"Who do you think did it, then?" Edward sighed.

"I don't know. If it was the man who was coordinating everything, then perhaps that's something we need to look into," Roy focused his eyes on the two survivors, "Have they even told us their names?"

"Nothing."

He sighed. The two men were ignoring Breda as he sat there, notepad in hand. One was young, maybe not even old enough to enlist. The other was Ishbalan, but older than Roy if the creased lines on his face were anything to go by. Their hands were bound by chains to the walls and they had both decided to sit some time ago. Although he hadn't made his presence known to them, he doubted they would be impressed by the quick recovery. If they were adamant that alchemy was the problem, they wouldn't know that it couldn't have produced the results from which he had benefitted. They'd seen him weak. He wouldn't have a chance to intimidate them.

Amelie, though...

Breda pushed the chair away from the desk. It protested against the cold concrete floor. Walking away, it was clear the soldier hadn't been able to ascertain anything. He closed the door behind him and met the three waiting there. He'd been informed of Roy's recovery, but still whistled appreciatively at seeing his commanding officer out and about.

"Good to see you, Boss."

Roy nodded, "I suppose they gave you nothing."

"Been that way since we got them. They got nothing from the records department, either. No past record."

"It seems to be a common thread; this Roderick man doesn't attract criminals. He attracts normal people," Ed allowed.

"And the man who attacked Lieutenant-Colonel Armstrong: what did he look like?"

Hawkeye produced a sketch from her pocket. Unfolding it, Roy got another look at the man who had led the attack in the pub that evening. Like then, this sketch only gave him eyes to look at. The bottom half of his face was covered by cloth. But those eyes weren't wizened or weary; they had a menacing intent behind them. Had these been the eyes Royce had seen before she was left helpless?

He folded the paper back up and handed it off to Hawkeye, "I want this posted everywhere. Every soldier and MP should know this face."

"Of course, sir."

"Not a lot to go on, Mustang," Ed allowed.

"It's all we have for now."

There was a timid knock on the door leading out to the rest of the prison compound. Hawkeye opened it and ushered Alphonse in. The younger Elric looked to the two detainees and then to Roy, "Lieutenant Havoc sent me. Amelie woke up and refused to stay at the hospital. He took her to his townhouse just so she wouldn't run off."

"I take it she's fully healed, then?"

"She is."

Since he'd woken up yesterday, Roy had been reading more of the correspondences she'd sent to Maes; Shieska had also brought her case file and that behemoth detailed every creation and hellish experiment Amelie had been a part of. Each was a little harder to read; each was incriminating and absolving all at once. Her alchemy had been weaponized beyond even his mantle and she hadn't known until it was too late. Once she had known, he'd been the only reason she'd continued to cooperate.

The doctors and alchemists alluded to a brother after she'd referenced one, but his name was never mentioned in her dossier. Family had been used to keep her under control and when she showed the slightest bit of resistance, they'd beaten her back into submission. She'd transmuted horrible creations just to keep that family safe. She was so young, naive even, that it didn't matter that they didn't know about him and Madame Christmas. She wasn't old enough to drink, let alone outwit military mind games. She'd been helplessly caught in the maelstrom of Bradley's regime and had been left to claw her way out, alone and afraid and seeking the brother she'd been so focused on protecting.

And he'd repaid her by condemning her.

* * *

It had been a long time since Jean Havoc had entertained a woman at his place. A very long time. Opening the door, he hastily went about trying to clean up the scattered laundry, empty food containers and more that littered the place. Amelie walked in behind him and said nothing. She was still in her hospital gown. They hadn't even discharged her, she'd just left. Getting her to agree to come with him instead was no small task once she saw his military uniform. The car ride over, she'd said almost nothing. She just held the thin fabric and his jacket he'd placed on her for warmth tight to herself.

"Sorry, about the mess," he said quickly.

"It's fine. Really."

"Do you want some clothes? More substantial clothes, anyway?"

She offered a small smile, "Yes, please. Thank you."

He dashed into his bedroom and messily dug through the drawers to find anything that was presentable. He was taller, broader; nothing he had looked remotely like it would fit. Still, he decided on a black turtleneck and a pair of old cargo pants. They weren't stained, and that was better than the majority of his civilian clothes. His uniforms were perfectly pressed, but getting her to wear one of those was out of the question.

Walking back to the living room, she was still standing awkwardly with her fists bunched up in the fabric to ensure every inch of herself below her jawline was covered. He offered the heap of clothes to her.

"This is all I have. Sorry."

She smiled at him again and took the clothes, "It's very generous of you."

They stood there for a moment. She was so beautiful without blood coating her. Her hair was silken white even though her eyes were inky black. She blushed a bit, "Is there somewhere I could change?"

He snapped out of his reverie, "Oh, yeah, sure. The bathroom is just through my bedroom."

She nodded once more and moved past him gracefully. He went back to gathering up garbage and forgotten papers from the couch so she would at least have some place to sit. Tossing his handful of trash into the bag, he heard a soft clearing of a throat. He turned to see Amelie. She was wearing his clothes, but had used her alchemy to make them fit. The black turtleneck hugged her form perfectly and the cargo pants had been shrunk. Her white hair still flowed freely.

"They look better on you," he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck unsurely, "Are you hungry?"

"I am a little peckish," she admitted.

"Well, I don't have much, but I'm sure I could whip something up."

"That would be lovely."

"Want something to drink until then?"

"Water will be fine."

"Great. So, just relax; take a seat and I'll get some lunch going. Feel free to turn on the radio."

She moved back to the couch and he to the kitchen. He heard the radio click on and the white noise vanished as she found a station of soft music. Jean usually listened to the government stations outlining the news, but the music was a welcome change. He filled a glass of water and brought it out to her. She sipped at it like a little bird.

Making his way back to the kitchen, he enjoyed the comfortable silence that was softened by the music. He glanced back between shuffling ingredients for Xingese stir-fry and caught her curled up on the couch, eyes closed and a smile on her face while she listened to the delicate string instruments.

The stir-fry didn't take long. He served it out into two bowls and grabbed chopsticks from the drawer by the window. Sitting next to her on the couch, she wasn't shy about digging in. She crossed her legs and placed the bowl in the divot before scooping up a huge mouthful. Havoc had to smile. Most women he'd known ate dainty, delicate portions. Mustang's sister had no such propensity. Slurping a thick noodle, the end of it whipped back at slapped her on the nose. She cuffed the sauce away with her wrist and continued eating.

"Glad you like it."

She looked at him, mouth puckered as she slurped up another noodle, and froze for the briefest of moments. She finished sucking the noodle up and smiled sheepishly, "It's very good. I'm sorry. Haven't eaten a home-cooked meal in a while."

"Well, I can make as much as you like."

"Do you cook often?" she asked, her mouth still partially full.

"No. No, there's no real reason to cook for one. Plus I work all the time, so..."

"A soldier. You work for my brother?"

"I do."

"What do you do for him?"

Jean shrugged, a slight smile on his face, "Anything he needs, really. Just good at being a soldier, " She was staring at him, but he wasn't sure if it was judgmentally. Perhaps sadness was what he saw on her face; "You don't approve?" he asked.

"It's just that…I'm surprised."

"About what?"

"You care. I guess I'm not used to that. From a soldier."

"You have experience with a lot of soldiers?"

"Yes. Every day. For years. All they cared about was orders. Not about the scared child crying in a cage. Not about the little girl who begged to be let go. I don't think they were malicious, but they were numb. They'd forgotten who they were supposed to protect. You don't seem at all like them."

Havoc was unable to breathe. Her midnight eyes were focused on memories that had obviously tormented her. He swallowed back a twinge in his throat. She was so broken, but each crack seemed to be filled with golden hope. She blinked, her eyes meeting his for a painful moment. Sadness was all he could see in her eyes. Sadness and trauma.

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, turning her face downward to look into her bowl of half-eaten food.

"No...I didn't mean to...I didn't know."

"I doubt even Roy knows."

"Have you told him?"

"He doesn't care. He looks at me and all he sees is a murderer."

"Is that what you see?"

"I don't know anymore. Why? What do you see?" she asked, the slightest glimmer of trust carried on her words.

"I see a strong woman," he blurted out. She looked to him and her widened eyes showed the surprise he felt at his own admission. He offered a nervous little chuckle, "I mean, an alchemist, yeah, but a woman who could've given up on people a long time ago. With good reason it sounds like. But you didn't. You came back for the General. You care about people, too," he looked into his own bowl of stir fry to avoid seeing her expression.

"So, you're not afraid of me?" she asked softly.

He met her eyes without hesitation, "No."

There was a heavy knock on his door. Amelie froze and Havoc could see every one of her muscles tense up and her black eyes widen in terror. He stood slowly and reached for his sidearm. If they'd been followed, he didn't want her to be forced into a confrontation that would result in more death. His leveled breath came in a long, drawn exhale and he moved to put himself between the door and the woman on his couch.

"Lieutenant?" Roy's voice called from the other side of the door.

Havoc felt his body relax and he crossed the room to open the door. Amelie was still coiled tight, her body ready to bolt. Mustang and Hawkeye walked in and only once she saw her brother did Amelie release the tension in her shoulders. Roy looked her over and offered no pleasantries, only cold business.

"How did you know about these terrorists?" he asked directly the moment Havoc closed and locked the door behind them.

Amelie swallowed deep, "They were in Aerugo a while back. The leader said he could cleanse someone of alchemy. I kept tabs on him after I heard, hoping it would be true."

Havoc looked between brother and sister. No doubt, what the General saw as a threat, Amelie saw as a second chance at life.

"You know they've been killing innocent people," Roy said disdainfully, "Still, you wanted to join them?"

"I never wanted to join them. I just wanted to know if he could do what he said. If he could take away alchemy. I didn't want anything more than that."

"And when you intervened in the pub, what was your reason?"

"I didn't want anything to happen to you. He'd made threats beyond taking away your alchemy and I couldn't let you get hurt."

Roy sighed heavily and his face softened. Those piercing jet eyes turned down to look at the floor and his body relaxed. Hawkeye mirrored him, her posture softening. Havoc slowly made his way back to the couch, picking up his bowl of stir-fry and picking up where he left off.

"I'm grateful for your help. The man you spoke of, Roderick, made an example of another State Alchemist. After he took her alchemy, he killed her. I have no doubt that would have been my fate as well."

"I'm so sorry."

Roy's eyes met hers again, "It's my duty to hunt these terrorists down and I can't do that and worry about your loyalty at the same time. I need to know if I can trust you."

Amelie appeared to be swallowing glass and salt, "I've always been on your side."

There was a thick silence. Roy's fists were clenched and Riza's eyes were looking at her superior's expression. Havoc didn't dare chew for the sound would have been thunder in the tacit room. Amelie was still looking to her brother but her eyes were windows to the dismay and resigned disappointment she tried to hide on her face.

"Several children have been kidnapped from the State Alchemist Academy. We think Roderick has them and will make an example out of them. Is there anything you can do to help us find them?" Hawkeye stepped forward and said softly.

"I don't think so. I can feel souls if I know who they are or if I've...transmuted...them. But finding a random person -"

Roy's eyes widened, _"I feel everything, Brother. When their souls pass through me to the Gate... All of it becomes mine. Their lives, the pain of death... I hate doing alchemy. I wish this skill had never been given to me."_

"- would be impossible in a city like this," Amelie finished.

"We were at the Gate," Roy exclaimed, his voice louder than he intended.

All eyes turned to him. His own were fixated on Amelie and he stepped closer, "You transmuted all of those men at the warehouse. Do you have their memories?"

Havoc coughed a bit and even Hawkeye looked taken aback, "Their what?!" he asked.

Those soft black eyes were shielded by the wisps of white hair while Amelie looked down shamefully, "When I transmuted those men, I pulled their souls from their bodies. I killed them. They passed through me when I did it. But I wasn't...I was so injured. I can't remember anything but their pain," she confessed.

"Could you do it again?" Roy straightened.

Amelie's face snapped up to meet his gaze and her eyes were brimming over with abject horror. Her lips were agape, her breath shallow, and all Havoc could see was the grim determination on the General's face.

* * *

Amelie couldn't help but shiver. It wasn't the cold but the fear that made her skin prickle. Her white hair was pulled back, braided, and tucked under the black cloak she'd transmuted from one of Jean's overcoats. It shrouded her from view. That didn't mean she felt safe. It had been years since she'd been at this military compound and seeing the passing Amestrian blues, blacks and golds of random soldiers made her heart beat heavy in her ears. The only reassurance was the entourage that surrounded her on three sides. Her brother lead them, his Captain was at the right and the Lieutenant was at the left.

The sound of a heavy, thick metal door opening and she followed her brother's lead to a dark room that was lit by a single long, wide window. The window let her see two men chained to a wall with nothing but a metal table and chairs for decoration. The lock was bolted behind them by a soldier standing guard. Even still, she didn't dare remove her hood. While she could see the two terrorists, it didn't seem they could see her or the others.

"Remember, we need to know where the children are being kept," Roy said softly.

She rolled her eyes. As if she could forget. Jaw clenched, she grabbed at the windowsill and tried to refrain from crying, "Please. Please, don't make me do this, Roy."

"We don't have a choice. You don't need to kill them, just get their memories. Besides, if we're lucky they may confess everything out of fear and you won't have to transmute them at all."

"Those children are the future, Amelie. We can't let Roderick kill them," Hawkeye added gently.

"I don't want anyone to see me do this."

"We've all seen it, Amelie," her brother impatiently chided her.

"No. I won't do it in front of you."

She could hear his lungs expand and contract, his pride getting in the way of his decision. Still, she heard the resigned puff of air escape his lips. Yet he didn't move for a moment. "How long do you need?" he finally asked.

"Five minutes. It doesn't take long."

"I'll give you ten. Ten minutes. Either they give you the information willingly or you take it from them."

She nodded, the hood around her mimicking the motion. Whatever silent command her brother gave, she was grateful to hear all three of them leave her behind the bolted door. They didn't need to see her bathe in the hellish light that her alchemy created; she'd done enough damage to her brother's trust by having it happen once by accident. She could still see Maes' face as he went down gasping...

Shaking the nightmarish image from her mind, she opened the second door and walked into the bright, concrete room. The two men didn't react for a moment. They ignored her.

Her hand pulled back the hood of her cloak and let it fall against her back and shoulders. The terror, the pure hatred that those eyes doused her with was unrelenting.

"Please, they only want to know where Roderick is keeping the children. Just tell me and you'll be safe."

"Or what? You'll kill us?" the older man asked harshly; his red eyes were like rubies in the bright light, "You're just another alchemist using power to intimidate and control people," he spat towards her feet.

She looked to the younger man. His eyes weren't so hateful, bit still held judgement. He said nothing. Lips were sealed tight even if they were quivering in barely contained alarm.

* * *

Roy leaned against the door, blocking it and making sure he could see the wall clock across the hall. Ten minutes. He hoped more than he wanted to admit that they told her everything out of fear alone. Even if she didn't kill them, they would never shake that sensation of being ripped away from a body they'd always had. He still felt echoes of it here and then. More, he just remembered the pain. His lungs frozen and burning and his hands clawing at his throat to bring in air.

His Captain walked up next to him with two cups of coffee. She'd already given a third to Lieutenant Havoc. He sipped at the small cup. Riza stirred her bit of sugar in before sipping from her own. They said nothing. Even Havoc was quiet.

He was no better than the alchemists in that lab; they made her do unthinkable things for their own end. And she'd begged to not do it. Even in the car ride over, she'd cried. Still, his duty came first. No matter the personal cost or uneasiness it gave him. Eyes turned back to the clock to see that three minutes had passed in deafening silence. He didn't know if the reinforced door would hide the screams or the light from her transmutation.

He still only remembered fuzzy images and moments from the time at the Gate with her. That warmth and tranquility was a beautiful memory. Nothing like her alchemy's echoes from years ago.

"Do you think they know anything?" Hawkeye asked quietly.

"They'd better. I'd hate to put her up to this for nothing."

"It was necessary to save lives."

"Is that what those alchemists in the lab told themselves? That they were trying to save lives? That the ends justified the means, no matter the cost?"

"I couldn't say, sir."

Screams. Animalistic and muffled and horrid screams. Passing soldiers took a few steps back from the door which Roy leaned against. The Flame Alchemist tucked his chin to his chest, ignoring the clock. When the screaming was done, so was she.

* * *

Bracing herself against the metal table, it screeched under the sudden, uneven weight. Her heart hammered heavy in her throat and ears and her breath was shallow. Bile threatened to overtake her mouth. Still, she looked at the two men across from her. They shivered, eyes wide and fixated on her. The screams had stopped, replaced instead by haunted faces and silent bewilderment. Her legs failing her, Amelie sank to her knees on the bitter concrete floor. Images, thoughts, scents...they all bombarded her. Ran unfettered and unfiltered through her mind and soul. Energy coursed rampant just under her skin, only just contained by fear of going too far.

The thick door opened and she saw the familiar blue on the edge of her narrowed vision. Jean knelt next to her, reaching out. She pulled away hastily.

"Don't touch me," she managed to rasp out; the fear of Jean being harmed by the remnant alchemy pushed her to speak.

He pulled his hands away.

"Can you stand?" her brother's voice cut through the haze on her brain.

She nodded timidly and pulled herself up from the floor. Taking a moment to steady herself, leaning her weight on the table, she walked past Jean towards the door. She left the men behind, taking refuge in the darkened adjacent room. She collapsed unceremoniously on a rickety chair and propped her head up with her hands.

"Well?" Roy asked impatiently.

"It's a lot to sort through. I need a bit to clear my head."

"We don't have time for that."

"Sir..." Hawkeye said cautiously, standing off to the side.

"Can you give me anything to go on?" he asked again.

Her head was pounding, "It's muddy right now. I can't just- "

"If Roderick has those children then I need to know where and what he plans to do with them."

Her eyes stung with unshed tears, "You can't expect me to- "

"This is nothing new for you so just spit it out alr- "

"If you want answers so bad, torture them yourself!" Amelie stood purposefully, toe to toe with her brother, staring up at him with her voice pitched between sobbing and screaming.

Her brother backed up instinctively, instantly, and had his hand out, thumb and middle finger pressed against each other. She could feel his alchemy ready to be used, the slightest spark ready to ignite the oxygen he'd gathered around her like a cage. Her own body was coursing with angry, malevolent energy and the black tendrils of the Gate crept up by her feet. Hawkeye backed away slowly. Tiny, inky hands reached up like wisps from a champagne bottle. The black obsidian of Roy's eyes were focused on the violet luster at her feet.

"Amelie, it's ok. Please...," Jean stepped closer with his hands open placatingly towards her.

Her mind went blank and she inhaled. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the void relinquished it's entry to the world and she watched it slink away. She swallowed down her frantic heart but the bile she'd kept at bay attacked her again and she fell to all fours, retching and coughing while she sobbed.

It was Jean who knelt next to her and rubbed her back gently. Afraid as she was for his safety, she couldn't voice the concern for the upheaval in her stomach. One final cough and she wiped the acid from her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Permission to take her home, sir?" Jean asked, his voice frigid.

Amelie heard no answer, but Jean must have received one for he wrapped one arm around her back to help her stand on her own. Her knees wobbled and he held her up. The hood was pulled down on her face again, and she followed his lead.

* * *

Roy was still frozen in a stance of action, his hand out. Riza was only vaguely aware of the nod to Havoc and the Lieutenant helped Amelie away. She watched the two of them leave, Amelie stumbling more than once. Looking back to her General, she could see the cold sweat at his hairline, the tense muscles in his arm and hand as he still readied to snap.

"General?"

He blinked several times and finally brought his arm down, his fingers clenched into a fist without threat of snapping. His jaw was still clenched. She placed her hand on his shoulder softly.

"Sir?"

"I'm fine."

She pulled her hand away and waited silently for an order, any order, that would help her navigate what had just happened. He said nothing. He stood straight and marched away from the scene, heading down the hall in the opposite direction as his sister had.

Left alone, Riza looked over her shoulder at the two men who, among it all, were curled up against the wall and silent.

* * *

He'd been ready to snap. He'd done every nuance of the alchemy, all he'd had to do was create the spark. It would've engulfed her. It wasn't love, or doubt, or even trust that had stopped him. It had been that purple glow, those black hands that made him freeze in pure terror. The way her white hair was cast in a violet light, her fair skin a stark contrast to the void that took root under her feet.

He'd pushed her too hard, too fast. He knew that. Rubbing his temple with his fingers on his right side, he closed his eyes. That indigo hell filled his vision. He opened his eyes again and looked out over the snowy courtyard. Havoc was just now getting his sister into a car. She'd all but sunk into the seat.

He clenched and then overextended his fingers, releasing the coiled tension. The motion caused his old wounds to ache in a sharp reminder of the last time he'd been brought before the Gate against his will. He grimaced. Alternating between one palm and the other he put gentle pressure on them with the opposing hand. They had never healed perfectly, no matter what Marco or Knox tried. The dull tenderness was always there, just exacerbated by the cold.

"General?" his subordinate's calm voice broke through the din of his conscience.

"Captain."

"Are you all right, sir?"

"I thought she was going to drag me back to the Gate. I wouldn't blame her," he allowed derisively.

"I don't think she would have."

"No?"

"She was upset, but not irrational."

That black military vehicle pulled away with his sister in it, and he watched it drive out of sight, away towards Havoc's flat. He found himself relieved that she was away from him.

There was a knock on his office door and he straightened, "Come in."

Fuery poked his head in and swallowed hard, "There's another broadcast."

Roy looked at the clock. Noon, just like the last few had been. He and Hawkeye walked out into the common area and Breda turned up the volume on the radio at Fuery's workstation.

" _-in regards to our demands that our fellow believers be released. Therefore, we will have no choice but to escalate this confrontation. If our citizens are not set free by nightfall, this city will witness just what the Republic is capable of. Any children lost will be laid to blame at the feet of the State Alchemists, the true enemies of this country."_

Roy exhaled deeply; the transmission cut off and the banter of the news came back. Regardless of how his sister felt, he needed the information she had hopefully gleaned.

* * *

She was silent. Silent and very much lost in her own mind. Jean could see the toll her transmutation had taken on her. Her eyes were lidded, her breath shallow. Even her skin, usually ivory with a warm tint, was sallow. Her forehead was propped against the glass of the car window. She'd wrapped the cloak tightly around herself and had pulled her knees to her chest in the passenger seat.

"Can I do anything to help?" he asked.

She blinked and for a moment he wasn't sure if she'd heard him at all. Straightening, she met his eyes. Hers were glassy with unshed tears, "Can we go visit Maes?"

The thick, sharp pain in his throat kept him from saying anything; he could only nod. He coaxed the car across the lanes, turning around towards the cemetery. The remainder of the ride, she was quiet and continued looking out the window.

Children were playing in the snow. Central schools weren't used to the inconvenience. Havoc couldn't imagine the General or Amelie partaking in such antics. Or had they? Had they been innocent and close as siblings should be? He saw in his mind the image of Amelie laughing, giggling, throwing snowballs. How different had things been were she not the fugitive? He longed to know what that smile would look like on her angelic face.

The cemetery hill appeared on the horizon and he pulled in to the parking loop. Stepping from the car, he came around to open her door. She hesitated. He offered his hand. Hers laid on it like a fresh snowflake and he helped her from the car.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked.

"No, thank you. I just need a few moments."

He nodded, "Take your time. I'll wait."

She gave a gentle smile and walked off. He shrugged his coat higher to block the chill wind and he lit a cigarette. Leaning against the car, he waited. He felt like it were the least he could do. He kept the engine running, the radio on, hoping to stay abreast of anything that could harm her.

* * *

They'd already tried Havoc's flat. No one was home. Roy knew where she'd be, especially after what had happened. The drive the the cemetery was quiet and, when they pulled up, the Lieutenant was waiting by his car. A small set of footprints led up the hill beyond the stone wall. Giving one little look to Hawkeye, she adopted a similar pose to Havoc.

He didn't have to follow the smaller footprints. He knew by which grave to find Amelie. A moment of walking and her black robes and hooded face stood out on the top of the hill against the white snow and grey tombstone of Maes Hughes. She turned slightly at the crunch of snow under his heavy boots. His own hands deep in his pockets, he stood next to her. She'd placed a single white flower on the top of the muted stone.

"I miss him," she whispered.

"Me, too."

"I felt it. When he died. I cried for days. It was like a part of me had died with him. I felt hollow."

Mustang's brow furrowed, "What are you talking about?"

"That day on the compound, when we were fighting and he tried to break us up."

"You almost killed us."

"I was so upset, my alchemy started to work on its own. When Maes grabbed me, I started to transmute his soul from his body. I pulled away. The transmutation stopped, but some of his soul was still in me."

"Is that what happened to me? When I was dumb enough to lunge at you?"

She nodded, "You both went down. Coughing, grabbing at your throats. My head was reeling. All I could do was scream."

"It felt like I was being burned alive from the inside. What I never understood was how your alchemy was so advanced."

"From what Truth told me, my mother was in labor when she and our father got into a car wreck. She died, but I was left in limbo. When the doctors were able to save me, her death became my toll. All the time I spent at the Gate gave me knowledge."

"And what happened to me and Maes since you stopped your transmutation half-way?"

"You were left in limbo, too. It took me a little while to realize it but I had absorbed a part of each of your souls. I knew the only way to save you both was to transmute it back."

"I remember waking up in the hospital and you were hovering over Maes."

"I transmuted your soul back to you first. I did the same to him."

"I pulled the emergency cord."

"The MPs shot at me, and I jumped out the window."

"You knew everything about us after you transmuted us. And when you say you felt hollow when he died..."

"Each of your souls echoed in me. Yours still does. All those years we spent apart I knew at least that you two were alive. I could just feel it. When he died..." her voice caught.

Unbidden, Roy's hand reached out to rest gently on her shoulder. She sidestepped closer and huddled up next to him. He sighed, his breath condensing into a small cloud before disappearing.

"I know you hate alchemy. But this skill was given to you for a reason. How you use it defines you."

She wiped the tears from her face and inhaled shakily, "Jean told me about the broadcast. You need to save those children."

"Yes."

"Let's get inside. I'll tell you everything I found out. I just hope it helps."

Roy nodded, still draping his arm around her shoulders. The two of them walked back down the hill, leaving their footprints in the snow leading away from the grave of their mutual friend.

* * *

Moving through dim hallways and past children who were busy playing in the arena, Naomi pushed open the door towards Roderick's room. Her observations of the Flame Alchemist and the white-haired woman were proving useful, especially knowing they had healed so quickly. Roderick seemed to be surprised at the speedy recovery, as though even their alchemy were beneath that ability. She knocked once and he bid her entry.

"You sent for me?" she asked.

"Yes. I need you to head to the south of the city."

"But the State Alchemists..."

"They will not release our brothers. We will be forced to _use_ the children as an example. Perhaps if the citizens turn against the military, we won't have such a hard time accomplishing our final cleansing."

"So why send me away for this, then?"

Roderick sat at his desk; the only light was a single bulb hanging from the cord. He was taking his customary notes as he did most evenings before he turned in. He passed off a page he'd ripped out to her, "There are some people who can assist us. I need you to speak with them."

"Of course."

"Do you have any news on the Flame?"

"Only that it seems he and the white-haired woman are still working together. I watched them leave the cemetery. They're not alone, however."

Roderick stood, crossing his arms and leaning against his desk to face her, "I can't waste more resources on capturing the two of them right now; with any luck they'll come to us if they think we have those children held hostage."

"Do you think he'll fall for it?"

Roderick sighed, "I'm hoping so. My broadcast should get him anxious to do something stupid, as all heroes do. Pride becomes a weakness."

The scheme to kidnap children who were, in truth, already a part of the Republic had been going on for weeks. Some in their ranks had children, and those children had been the best way to get information of the State Alchemist program. With each explosion, it had only been a matter of coordinating with willing parents to make it seem the child had been kidnapped. Roderick's plan had been gaining steam, slowly manifesting in the minds and hearts of Central's citizens. The broadcast today only solidified their fears.

Naomi felt her heart drop suddenly and she swallowed back pain in her throat, "Will you be all right without me?"

Blue eyes stared at her for a moment and then offered a soft smile, "I'll be fine. God won't abandon me. You need to get us more weapons, more resources, and these men can help do that."

"And if Flame doesn't come?"

"Then we rally the city against him for letting those children 'die'. He won't be considered a hero for much longer after that."

She clenched her jaw, "I don't think 'killing' them will make people sympathetic to our cause - even if the blame falls on the alchemist, we'll be the enemy for taking an innocent life in the eyes of the people."

Turning his blue eyes away and looking back to his notebook, he scoffed, "A child's death is always the fault of the military, Naomi. No matter who did the killing."

His voice was frigid, quickly turning from confident to venomous. She stepped closer, hand out, hoping to provide some small consolation. He was so strong, but even the strongest needed reassurance. He straightened and faced his desk against the wall.

"That will be all, Naomi."

Taking her dismissal, she held tight to the strip of paper he'd given her and turned to leave. The door shut heavily behind her. Her attention drifted to the children who remained blissfully ignorant of their part in all this. They were with their parents, able to skip school and enjoy the company of adults, and so had no worries in their heads.

She envied them.

* * *

Edward got his first good look at her. She was lithe. Long white hair fell straight down past her shoulders. Ivory skin and black eyes were a stark contrast against one another and she seemed to be more afraid of the gathered crowd than any of them were of her. Her hands wrung around themselves and those downcast eyes were flittering about the room, looking at each of them. For all her dainty appearance, she looked out of place in a pair of cargo pants and a black turtle neck.

Was she the Soul Alchemist he and Alphonse had heard rumors about? She hardly looked dangerous but that demur appearance was no doubt deceitful.

Captain Hawkeye brought tea from the adjoining office and placed the saucer and cup silently on the wooden table. She closed the double doors softly. The antechamber office of Mustang's was jammed-packed full of his team on the two plush couches. The bastard himself was in his high, wingback chair that boasted well worn leather arms behind his desk.

Amelie sipped from the teacup and gave a small, grateful smile to the Captain.

"What can you give me?" Mustang asked, his elbows on his desk and his fingers steepled together in front of his chin.

Hawkeye rolled out a map of Central and weighed it down at each corner. Stepping back, she remained poised and at attention.

"The young man at the compound remembered hearing children when he went to resupply the night before they attacked us. It's some underground, abandoned military installation...right around this area," Amelie pointed to the northern section of the map.

"That's where the original military hospital used to be," Fuery spoke up, "It went six stories underground."

Amelie was pensive for a silent moment, "It smelled like antiseptic. And there was water moving softly...a storm sewer? He always came from the south side and was met with three checkpoints. The northern entrance wasn't guarded but it does exist. That is where Roderick is stationed, where all the orders come from. A lot of the terrorists live there in the old rooms. The main entryway collapsed and it's an auditorium for Roderick when he preaches his message."

"Sounds like a perfect environment for an ambush," Armstrong added.

"Only if he knows we're coming," Mustang admitted.

"You sure the intel from this guy is reliable? He could be lying to us," Ed interjected. He saw Amelie swallow, hard and painful. Mustang straightened but didn't spare him a glance. Havoc and Hawkeye both averted their gazes, too. The lack of eye contact set off alarms in Ed's mind and he scoffed, "You tortured this guy for information?"

"Not exactly," Amelie spoke up.

"So how are you so sure it's accurate?"

"He didn't tell me these things. I...I absorbed his memories. Everything he knows, I know."

"You did that with alchemy?" Alphonse asked.

She nodded. Edward ran theoretical transmutations in his mind; the patterns and complex reactions could only be gained with human transmutation on some level. Even with that, it didn't explain how the memories could be absorbed so wholly. Deconstruction of the mind would include synapses and other physical extensions that made memory exist, but how could the reconstruction result in passing those memories on to another person? The smells? The sensations?

"How is that possible?" he asked, unable to find any logic behind her action.

Her eyes remained downcast and she started to lick her lips with an answer before the General cleared his throat.

"Regardless, the intel is the best we have. We need to use it and get those children back. If Roderick was planning on using them as retaliation, then we need to get mobilized and secure them before nightfall."

"What did you have in mind, General?" Havoc asked with a slight grin.

"Go in to get the children. Nothing more. With any luck, we won't have to engage anyone. Especially if you know all of the posts and checkpoints," he looked to Amelie.

"No...I mean, I won't be there," Amelie argued abruptly, "I can tell you, but I'm not going with you."

Everyone turned to look at her. Mustang sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other, arms out on the armrests. He had gone from relaxed to intimidating. Edward was well aware of that pose. It made the average-sized man appear bigger; his eyes narrowed. Amelie seemed to squirm under the gaze.

"Your knowledge is vital to getting us in and out without incident."

"I'll tell you everything I can, but I won't go with you."

The General's chest rose and fell steadily for a moment, "Why not?"

The young woman swallowed convulsively, eyes darting between each of them before landing back on Mustang, "Can we talk about this? Alone?" she pitched her voice so quietly that even Edward had a hard time understanding her.

"Why? Not?" Mustang asked again.

She set her shoulders back and her eyes met Mustang's head on, "I didn't come to Amestris to get involved. I came to make sure you knew what you were up against. Now, you do. And now I intend to leave. I don't belong in this country."

With his usual, unshakeable mask on, Mustang did nothing, said nothing, and everyone waited. To her credit, the young woman didn't back down. She held firm under his piercing gaze. The sound of the wind outside the office windows was the only breath that coursed free.

"I suppose you're right. This isn't your country any more. Wait until I return. I'll at least make sure you get across the border safely," he relented.

Amelie's face softened and she nodded in agreement. Mustang gave one permissive sigh and the young woman didn't spare any other attention to the rest of them before turning her attention to her tea. He unfolded his leg and sat forward to rest his elbows on his desk again.

"The fewer of us there are, the less chance we have of being noticed," he reasoned aloud, "Captain. Fullmetal. Feel up to this?"

"Sir, I insist I go with you!" Armstrong spoke up.

"I don't want more alchemists going than need to. We can't give Roderick easy targets."

"I'm in. What about you, Mustang?" Ed eyed him.

"I have no intention of being an easy target."

"This guy is gunning for you, General. Maybe it'd be best to sit this one out," Havoc added.

"Even so, I won't sit by idly. Fuery, I need you to tap into every line you can. See if you can find me any radio talk from Roderick's team so we can pinpoint their moves. Breda, get a civilian car and prep it for a hasty evacuation; those children are the priority and as soon as we secure them, we need to get out of there. Amelie, write down everything you can on this hide out. Give your information to Captain Hawkeye and Fullmetal."

"Yes, sir," Fuery and Breda intoned simultaneously.

The silent woman only started penning information on a scrap piece of paper, aloof to the others around her.

"Havoc, Armstrong: you two need to stay with Amelie. She's been targeted once and we know the Republic has kept track of our moves thus far. Don't take her to my home or Havoc's flat. Either could be an easy mark."

"She is more than welcome at the Armstrong estate! I would like to see those ruffians try to attack the household which has been the backbone of Ametris for generations!"

"General, if it's okay with you, I'd like to go with them. Amelie, I'd love to talk about medical alchemy with you," he focused his attention to the distracted young woman.

Silently, she nodded with a meek smile. Mustang stood from his chair and pulled his gloves from the desk drawer, "We leave in an hour. Dismissed."

Everyone moved at the definitive statement. Armstrong and Havoc walked closer to Amelie, but she made a beeline for the General. Ed couldn't hear what she said, only saw that she offered her hand. Mustang glared at it like an untamed animal but gave in and shook it. With that, she grabbed a black hooded cloak from the back of the couch and pulled it on to hide all of her features. Ed couldn't help but smile at the eager sprint Al adopted in order to catch up.

* * *

All things considered, Riza thought the meeting went well. Everyone came out alive and Roy and Amelie managed to not attack each other. While she had no doubt that the younger alchemist would try to leave before they returned, she at least knew his conscience was clear. If Amelie wanted to leave, he wouldn't stop her now. Perhaps that small grace would be enough to make her rethink abandoning the country he loved. She wouldn't hold her breath, but stranger things had happened.

Everyone had dispersed except her, Roy and Edward. The two of them were looking at the map, idly planning contingencies if the northern entrance Amelie spoke of was occupied. Amelie's notes were sporadic, but detailed. Committing little tidbits of information to memory, preparing for any confrontation, Riza marveled at just who Edward had become; the man across from her was no longer that little boy in a wheelchair, broken and disabled. This man had grown and seen the world beyond his home. Those golden eyes were sharp, the intelligence behind them brilliant even though his alchemy had been forfeit.

Once again, they would be walking into a perilous unknown. The General had gotten them this far. She had no reason to doubt him now. A knock on the door and Fuery followed it with a disappointed facade.

"Sir, I can't find anything - they've stopped all broadcasts."

The General nodded and stood from behind his desk, "They're probably gearing up for whatever display of power he threatened. Regardless, please inform the Fuehrer that we'll be leading a rescue mission for the children."

"He's probably gone home for the day, sir," Hawkeye interjected.

"Go ahead and use a secure line. Call the Presidential estate. He needs to be ready to handle Congress and the press come morning."

"Yes, sir!" Fuery said before closing the door.

* * *

Al hadn't really meant to stare. But with the bedroom door half-opened to begin with, and seeing her curled on her side, she looked too pathetic to ignore. Once at the Armstrong mansion, Amelie had recused herself from the present company and sought out a room to sleep. He'd let her alone for a bit and had only ventured to find her when Alex said he was preparing dinner. Now, he stood in the doorway; her skin was clammy, her white hair matted to her brow. Her chest hitched with whatever scene was playing out in her dreams.

Venturing forth, he said her name softly. She stirred and her obsidian eyes opened to find him. Al smiled but kept his distance, unsure how she would react. They stared at each other for a long moment before she sat up.

"Is Roy okay?"

Al nodded, "Yes. I mean, as far as I know; they left for the hospital about forty minutes ago."

"Then why are you here?" she asked; there wasn't any accusation in her voice, just curiosity.

"Dinner."

"Oh. You're not afraid?"

"I think fascinated is more the word for it," he gave a weak smile.

She stood before placing the covers back into perfect form, "You know, the last person to say I was 'fascinating' was Maes."

"He was a good friend."

"I wish I could've been around for the funeral. He...he was like a brother to me."

Al said nothing; the death of Maes was still a gaping hole in his chest. Knowing she, too, had been friends with the man made him feel sympathetic - neither he or his brother had been able to say their proper farewells. They all shared that regret.

"Thank you. For letting me rest. You had said you wanted to ask me about medical alchemy?"

"If I can pick your brain, yes."

Amelie's smile was warm, welcoming, even, "Of course."

The moment she was shoulder to shoulder with him, he matched her pace. Her feet were bare and she seemed to step like a ballerina. Poised, dignified, but so very delicate and fluid in her motions. While the Armstrong mansion was quiet - Alex had sent all of the staff home at Havoc's suggestion - the familiar chit chat of Havoc and the Lieutenant-Colonel rang out from the kitchen.

"You said earlier that you were able to absorb memories but I don't know of any biochemical alchemy which would allow that."

"It's not a biochemical process. It's a spiritual one. I don't transmute the body. I transmute the soul. Hence the nickname."

"The soul?"

Taking a large glass and filling it with milk, Al sat at the kitchen island with Armstrong. Havoc was still preparing his sandwich. Amelie offered the Lieutenant a warm smile before serving herself a salad. She sat nestled between Havoc and himself, pushing little tomatoes around the bowl of spinach.

"The soul is the anchor between the Gate and Truth. My alchemy essentially deconstructs the bonds between the three and then I reconstruct the soul inside my void with my Gate and Truth."

"How is that possible?" Alex spoke up.

"It's just alchemy. But the end result is that I absorb everything up to that point. Emotions, memories, thoughts...if I complete the transmutation fully, the other person dies. The trio can't exist as a duo. The body is destroyed and without that, the soul no longer has a fulcrum. It passes through my Gate and death is inevitable."

"And if you don't complete the transmutation?" Al asked.

"The body and soul naturally want to reunite and so I let them. The person goes on with their life. That is what I did with the terrorists you captured at the warehouse."

The blunt truth of her actions made Al's eagerness fade for a moment. Her alchemy, unique as it was, had been weaponized with scalpel-like precision. If she noticed the sudden and thick silence, she ignored it and offered a small smile to him, "And what about you and your brother?" she changed the topic.

"What about us?"

"You each opened the Gate. I can tell. Both of your souls are bright, strong. I can feel them."

With the knowing glances from Jean and Alex, Al offered no preamble, "We tried to bring our mother back. Brother lost his leg, and I lost my body. He gave up his arm to bond my soul to armor and save my life."

Her black eyes were soft, "I'm sorry for your loss. How did you get your body back?"

Al wasn't exactly used to someone being so nonchalant about what they'd done and accomplished, but, he supposed, having been through what she had, Amelie wasn't easily flustered anymore, "Brother gave up his alchemy."

Her brow furrowed, and she looked between each of them, "What about the military's stockpile?"

"What stockpile?" Jean asked.

"Of Philosopher's Stones."

Al's heart dropped. Surely she knew what they were made with...what it cost to create one... "Brother and I couldn't - knowing how they were created, we swore we would never use one to undo our mistakes."

Brow still slightly tight, the white-haired woman shrugged, "Why wouldn't you? Those souls are energy."

"An abomination!" Alex piped up, his baritone voice echoing in the otherwise sepulchral room.

Amelie was unfazed, "Perhaps the creation of one, yes. But once those souls have been turned into the stone and their bodies have gone, all they are is energy stuck in agonizing limbo."

Jean straightened a bit, "What do you mean?"

"Energy can't be destroyed. It can change forms, but can never be destroyed. That's all a soul is, is energy. A soul ripped from the body will be in agony until the energy is released. So, a Philosopher's Stone is a form of energy, built on the suffering of the souls inside it. Leaving those souls in such a maelstrom is what tortures them. Stuck in a confined jail, a prison, for eons. It's a fate worse than death," she looked down to her food but continued on, "Using those souls frees them. They can be reunited with the Gate, pass through the Portal. They can see loved ones again. Find peace again. It's no different than putting a mortally wounded animal out of its misery. To let it suffer longer than it needs to is cruel. Killing it seems wrong, but it's merciful. Sometimes mercy is the best we mortals can do."

"I never...Brother and I never thought of it that way."

She was staring at something in the table, beyond it, that none of them could see, "Taking a soul from the body causes insurmountable pain and injury. The only way to undo it is to put the soul back before the body dies, or let the soul pass to the Gate to find peace. That's how I got my moniker from the military. Souls were nothing more to me than fire is to Roy. We're so adept at controlling it, the military turned it into a weapon."

"Forgive me, but how did you ever learn how to accomplish this?" Armstrong's eyes pinned her with a steely gaze.

Her gaze was still on some internal thought, "My mother was killed when she was pregnant with me, but the doctors were able to save my life. Her death was a toll and the extended time I spent at the Gate imbued me with an immense knowledge of Truth."

"Incredible. In the military, your monicker was assumed to mean you'd sold your soul to become so powerful. Instead, to see that a mother gave her life for her unborn child! How innocent! Such true love."

"I wish she hadn't. I would much rather be ignorant of alchemy than cursed with all this in my head."

"But surely you could use this for a greater purpose?"

Amelie stared at Armstrong with soft eyes, "Like what? What could my alchemy accomplish besides death?"

The larger man seemed taken aback for a moment, but Alphonse could see his regret. To be so powerful but to only have power to kill...Amelie finally took a meager bite of her salad. Her shoulders were slumped. The silence was thick. Alphonse had assumed her alchemy was biochemical in nature. But to think about the other aspects of it, a soul transmuted, he wondered if she would have ever been able to help him and his brother before the promised day. Being able to transmute a soul without paying a toll for it was a talent he was sure Edward would have been invested in a few years ago.

"You did the right thing, helping the General save those kids. With any luck, they'll all be able to go home tonight to their own families," Havoc broke the silence, giving Amelie a cocked smile in an obvious attempt to lighten her mood.

"I'm sure their families are worried about them,"Al allowed.

Havoc shrugged, "Yeah, but the teachers were the ones to report them missing after they missed class," he gave a half-hearted chuckle, "Guess they care about those grades."

Amelie paused while bringing another bite to her mouth. Her eyes were wide. She let the fork plop loudly into the bowl, "The teachers reported them missing?" she asked hastily.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Not the parents?" she asked. At the silence from Armstrong and Havoc, her jaw seized up and she licked her lips. Her shoulders were rising and falling in a sudden onset of panic, "Oh no..."

She pushed away from the island and stormed into the large formal dining room aimlessly while her hands were on her temples. Alphonse could barely keep up when Havoc and Armstrong both followed her. She was pacing, hands drumming on her head and eyes welded shut. Her sharp exhales passed through clenched teeth.

"Amelie? Talk to us. What happened?" Havoc rose his voice slightly.

"I didn't go deep enough. The memories. Those men…didn't hear children crying; they weren't scared. They could hear them but they weren't worried about them…"

"Ok, so?" Havoc asked.

Those black eyes bore into his, "Roderick must have set a trap. No parent reported their child missing because those parents must be part of the Republic. Those children aren't missing. Their parents pulled them out when they were told to. Roderick set a trap for Roy. He must've!"

"They will have arrived at the hospital by now," Armstrong added.

"We have to go after them! Roderick will kill him if we don't!"

Havoc and Alphonse looked to Armstrong. He ranked highest. He had to make the call. His giant shoulders pulled the blue fabric taut before relaxing again. Those blue eyes were studying Amelie while she bit on her lips, waiting for cooperation.

"Call Breda." he finally ordered.


	8. Flame

**Flame**

Thus far, everything was just as Amelie had said it would be. The northern entrance had been easily penetrated. One guard had been hastily dispatched with a dull thud to the temple. Although his sister's information was solid, it hadn't given them an exact location of the children. They'd split up. He hated to do it, but getting to those children promptly was paramount. He could only hope Hawkeye and Fullmetal were luckier than he currently was.

Peering out into the vast, cavernous space, Roy saw no one, heard no one. His fingers flexed and he pressed the spark cloth between them. His back he pressed against the wall when he turned from the safety of the hallway into the auditorium Amelie had mentioned. The few steps out into the open went unhindered. His footfalls were muffled by the accumulation of dust. Still, it was an inky blackness that surrounded him and he couldn't see much beyond the ingress itself. Not since the Truth had taken his sight had such an encompassing blackness met him head on.

A shot cracked through the darkness, echoing in the hollow void. Roy felt excruciating pain. The sting in his shoulder brought him to his knees about the moment that another bite tore into his lower waist. He twisted and fell to the ground, groaning with the seeping pain that crept through his torso and shoulder. He could feel the warmth leave his body. Lights clicked on and Roy looked around to see his attackers, blinking against the onslaught of his nerves. A dozen armed terrorists looked down on him, but it was the single man on the ground level that caught his attention.

The man said nothing. His hands were folded behind him at the small of his back. Those blue eyes smiled with malicious intent. Forcing one foot under his bleeding body, Roy stood and the world spun. The silence was oppressive. Mind fumbling with thoughts left him to realize it had been a trap. Roderick had somehow anticipated that he would come. But that meant…

"General!" Hawkeye called out from behind.

Roy looked over his shoulder to see his Captain and Fullmetal chained, restrained and guarded by more terrorists. Ed had a singular slice with red rivulets of fresh blood dripping down his temple. Hawkeye looked unharmed. Her brown eyes met his and he could see the fear in hers.

"Flame Alchemist! Welcome to your execution!" Roderick called out, smiling wide with anticipation.

* * *

Havoc watched Amelie's face contort in confused fear. Her lips were pressed together, her hands wringing around themselves like a rag being dried. Softly reaching out, he placed a hand on her wrist; her attention snapped to him. She swallowed back the uncertainty clawing at her insides. The car bounced through another pothole and she winced. Looking around the transport truck, the Lieutenant steeled himself. Three alchemists. Not an army, but damn near close enough. They'd called Breda to drive them, the military vehicle the best chance at carting everyone back to the Armstrong estate together.

They didn't know what exactly they would be facing. Amelie had mentioned the enemy had the arsenal for war, but that the terrorists themselves were just civilians. That gave the military the edge. At least, he hoped.

Her hand held onto his when he started to draw it back and he offered a smile, "He's going to be fine."

She nodded but her eyes were haunted. She caught sight of a rolling hill a few kilometers ahead and called out for Breda to stop. With a gurgle, the engine sputtered to silence and she was the first to jump from the canvas-covered bed. Jean followed close behind. She put one knee to the ground and touched the snow-covered earth. Her eyes closed and her hand spouted a golden glow.

"What is she doing?" Breda whispered harshly.

She inhaled sharply and looked beyond where they all stood towards a bunker in the next hill. Without a word, her feet led her forward hastily. Jean didn't bother asking questions for he could see the grim determination that was etched in the wrinkle above her brows. Armstrong caught up with them as well.

"Do you know where to look for them?"

"Roy...I feel pain," she rasped out.

"Feel it?" Alphonse whispered.

"Yes. I transmuted his soul once," she answered matter-of-factly.

"Oh, well, that explains everything," Breda quipped.

Amelie didn't hesitate to pull open the heavy metal door. It was awkwardly silent, recently oiled and well-maintained. Not something an abandoned military installment was known for. She paused again, her hand on the concrete wall. The last purple gleam of sunset was fading fast and the darkness at their front was more unsettling than the abandoned countryside behind them. She activated another small, golden glow against the concrete and winced, snapping her eyes shut. With a shallow gasp, she leaned against the wall. Havoc kept his arms out, unsure of what she was dealing with.

"Amelie?" he asked.

"I don't feel any innocence. Only anger. Anger...and pain."

Alphonse came up next to her, "Do you mean the children aren't here?"

She shook her head, "It doesn't feel like it."

"Definitely a trap, then," Havoc pulled out his sidearm and aimed skyward. Amelie led them forward, seemingly unafraid of meeting anyone in the velvety darkness that encompassed them.

Jean could hear Armstrong give an order for Breda to keep the truck ready; the larger man took up the rear and stayed vigilant. With his own firearm cocked, Havoc could at least hope they took anyone they came across by surprise. The unsettling truth of Amelie's alchemy might have given them an advantage in that she could obviously sense emotions when they ran strong enough. Perhaps her confidence in her brisk stride was because of the emptiness in her path. She would move forward, repeat her alchemy, and then forward again.

She froze and Havoc felt his heart beat loud and hard against his chest, "What is it?" he whispered.

Silent, Amelie's pace slowed and she pushed herself against the wall; she crept along like a cat burglar. Jean stayed right behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. He couldn't afford time think about the implications when her own hand shadowed his. The sounds of fire and the ghostly pallor of flames echoed through the hallway ahead.

* * *

He could feel blood, warm and wet and his life, draining slowly from the two gunshot wounds. His shoulder burned, the bullet having passed through and torn a jagged path between shoulder blade and muscle. The other gaping wound in his torso above his hip still had the fragments in it. He could feel their razor edges find new muscles and veins to tear at each time he tried to move. His breath came in haggard draws and each exhale was a sharp pain.

A heavy snap and the resulting flames drew away his fight. Alchemy wasn't just about the energy in the transmutation, but the stamina to control it, and with his injuries he was using everything he had to keep the flames as his ally. The flames leapt away and tried to wrangle his opponent. His mind fought against the blood loss and encroaching weakness. Still, the man avoided being charred. Somehow, the inferno which had always followed his every whim failed to do the job he needed. Tattered fabrics caught fire beyond the arena he found himself in. Of their own volition, the fires burned and smoldered to cover every bit of the edifice with soot and falling ash.

The conflagration died away and Roy stared at the man who had declared war. While his own body was sweating and shivering as it dealt with the demands upon it, the man across the room seemed at ease and every bit collected.

"You see, Flame Alchemist, God will not let your heathen fire touch me."

Roy braced himself and inhaled. He snapped again, the fire licking out and reaching for the man across the way. He dodged, running closer to Roy as he snapped repeatedly, more flames trying to catch him. It was a dance where Roy's flames and Roderick were locked in deadly steps but each move from the red licks of fire was easily outmaneuvered and avoided. Every nuance of alchemy pulled at his consciousness. His body swayed and it was the adrenaline of seeing his attacker move in ever closer that made him snap with both hands. Alchemy created a white-hot wall between them and the strain of controlling it brought him to his knees. A short reprieve. Normally, his talent was nothing more than a quick display. No more energy than the snap itself being pulled from his body. Now, every muscle ached and his vision blurred at the edges. His focused wavered and the oxygen in the air dissipated. The flames cooled and Roy couldn't find any energy to stoke them again. He pitched forward on all fours, unable to even retain his balance on his knees alone. Head swimming, he heard footsteps.

Undeterred, Roderick walked through the dying flame casually, no more ill-at-ease than if he was walking through a gentle spring rain. Roy's obsidian eyes met the blue-tinged-gold of his attacker. The screams of his Captain as she struggled to rush to his side were drowned out by the roar of the surrounding blaze.

"God has tasked me with cleansing sins from this world. So, Flame Alchemist, now it's your turn. Care to beg for your life?"

It was all Roy could do to glare at the man. Sweat trickled down his brow only to fall and sizzle on the heated concrete. Haughty, accomplished and sneering, that grin irritated him beyond reason. They were so close. An arm's reach away.

Roy threw his all into one motion. Fingers wrapped around the grip of his gun, he squeezed the trigger. The shot ricocheted harmlessly. Roderick had seen the sloppy movement and grabbed his wrist to disarm him. He countered Roy's hand and reached down to seize his neck. The pistol clattered on the ground. Petered, hissing exhales barely made their way past the hawk-like grip on his throat when Roderick lifted him. He clung to Roderick's thick wrist, trying to pull himself out of the suffocating grip. The surrounding heat stung his eyes. The pressure under his jaw forced a guttural wheeze to fall from his lips. The flames and the world became shades of gray.

Still, Roderick smiled.

The man reached out and his cold hand touched Roy's forehead. It wasn't painful, wasn't encroaching. It was a foreboding chill that seeped through every bit of him. Yet his lungs spasmed, his body racked with a choking, strangled inhale. Some deep conscious was stripped bare and left to the elements. He heard nothing, felt nothing, and the peace of vertigo was too much to resist.

Roy's world contracted into thick, swamping blackness.

* * *

Amelie stared, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, as her brother was dropped and slumped to the side; the flames behind Roderick died along with him. The ever-present echoes of his fiery soul were doused from her own existence only to leave a gaping coldness in the vacuum and her silent horror gave way to a rush of anger. She couldn't give instructions. She couldn't explain. Alphonse, Jean and Armstrong each moved into action. She was no fighter. No threat beyond that of an alchemist. But even she could move in ways Roderick could never anticipate. She sank herself into the ground and came back up at her brother's side. The bastard moved away, his furrowed brow and defensive arms showing his fear, fleeting as it was.

She kneeled at her brother's side and tears fell onto sullied blue. Alchemy tore stone from the ground, throwing it up in spears that were aimed at the terrorist crowds. The shatter of the monoliths against the walls made the decrepit shelter rumble. Her alchemy tore electrons from their peaceful rest and split and rejoined them and the resulting lightning sprang up from the ground to pierce holes through the ceiling. Chucks of rock and stone fell and shattered, landing on onlookers.

She could hear the others behind her, working to free themselves. Reaching out, she changed the composition of the chains on Riza and Edward. Brittle, ashen, the metal turned to dust at the slightest disturbance. Each shard of metal from the roof that fell as energy tore at the foundations were made into a cage that stabbed deep into the earth to trap those who'd survived the stone she'd thrown. They could die, suffer, be crushed by the structure that came down around them and she didn't find one ounce of care left in her to stop the maelstrom her anger and grief had unleashed.

Roderick chuckled and her attention was drawn to him. She'd die before he was allowed to touch her brother's body.

"So you're the white-haired lady I've heard so much about," he smiled.

Her soul ached and she stood her ground. Roderick sprinted, closing the distance between them. The very air turned into her weapon. Carbon was everywhere and it obeyed her whims. The diamond wall sprang up with a screech and whine, separating her and her brother from the madman who would destroy her. Her teeth chattering in fury, she watched the wall grow to a third, and fourth story in height before it hit the remaining ceiling and made the building start to topple all the faster. With the sudden increase in oxygen beyond the wall, the last embers of Roy's alchemy sprang back to life and cast a hellish glow against the wall. Roderick's shadow was cast against it. Where the shadow was sharpest, his hand was touching her diamond wall.

"Amelie! We have to go!" Jean's voice was almost lost against the rumble of the destruction. It didn't register. Her pointed focus was on that shadow as logic returned and alchemy slowed.

Riza skid down next to her and Armstrong followed. They pulled Roy's body away, and Amelie found herself entranced by the shadowed hand print on the milky-translucent wall. Her fury bated, but her curiosity piqued. Placing her own hand on the wall, she reached out and tried to feel anything. Instantly, flashes ran through her mind-

 _...screams, fear, bodies charred black, burning flesh, hot sand, blue linen, white cloth..._

and she shuddered and fell to her own knees. A steady pair of hands braced her and she looked back to the wall to see the fires dying and the shadow gone. Huge chunks of the edifice were collapsing inwards, throwing craters into the flooring. Allowing Jean to guide her away, her own mind raced with the incessant wheel of images she had gleaned, while the hollow hole in her heart begged for her brother and her soul felt each death as the building came down.

In the back of the transport truck driven by Breda, she could barely make out any of the conversations around her. It was a distant din, nothing distinct but a cacophony of voices so riddled with panic and fear that the souls those voices belonged to were shuddering in their bodies. How many had she killed? How many and yet Roderick had escaped…

"Amelie," Jean shook her gently and she snapped back to the present. Those eyes bore into her own, "Can you help him?"

Her mind raced. She'd felt his soul snuffed. But her eyes confirmed the shallow rise and fall of his chest with each breath, the soft thump of life visible on his neck, and she knelt down at Roy's side as Riza cradled him in her lap on the bench. The blood stained uniform told a tale of two noticeable spots. The one by his hip seemed more serious. Alphonse had already staunched the blood flow on her brother's shoulder. She placed her hands over the wound in his side. She could envision the bullet fragments, the lead which was now coursing through him. Pulling one hand away from him, she let her alchemy seep out and find the dangerous pieces. They started to reassemble in her palm, a whole bullet without the casing it shed. Even deeper, she found open veins, shredded muscles. She tried to mend them, to create a whole from the bits. The blood flow slowed, then stopped entirely. Her golden glow wept into him and his body shuddered with a rough cough. His eyes opened ever so slowly, but they were glazed.

"Roy?" she asked timidly, dropping the bullet to hold onto his closest hand. The blood was slick, staining his gloves and her skin a sickly crimson. No words came to his lips, and his breath rattled in his throat. She couldn't feel his pain. She couldn't feel the soul which had always been a constant in the maelstrom of her life. Her heart rose before sinking again. While her brother was alive, the Flame Alchemist had been extinguished.

* * *

Edward had seen transmutations fueled by emotion before. He'd accomplished a few of them himself. They were exhausting, deadly displays of power. And while both he and Riza had been forced to watch the Flame Alchemist go down, obviously Amelie had thought it was the demise of him. Her reaction couldn't be explained any other way. And it was an impressive display of her prowess. A sobering reminder that, while she was meek and small in stature, her alchemy knew no limits beyond her imagination and would bend to her whim no matter how complex the reaction. Still, seeing her kneeling next to the Flame, she looked nothing like the dangerous woman she'd been only moment earlier. The tears she'd shed left ivory paths in their wake. The rest of her face was covered in grime and soot. Her grip on Mustang's gloved hand was a lifeline, and Edward suspected it wasn't one she would let go of any time soon. He'd pondered about why someone so dangerous had been taken in by the Flame, and before this he wondered if it was strictly strategy, but seeing her retribution…

Mustang wasn't just someone who'd kept her hidden from her past.

They were family. A daughter? She looked young enough. A sister? That would explain her reaction more so. Ed'd protectiveness of his brother bordered on that same level of devotion and he began to see the signs of it in the interactions Roy and Amelie had shared since they'd found them both in that warehouse. Still, Mustang had never mentioned family beyond a relation to Madame Christmas. And, if Amelie was the same woman who'd been hunted by the government and used as a bogeyman to young alchemists, Ed could see why Mustang would distance himself. His prolific career would have crashed and burned if he let on that he was related to her.

Mustang's unwillingness to acknowledge her fit that. Ed could sympathize. He and Al had a tight, singular relationship their entire lives. They'd gone through everything together and, even now that their lives were taking distinctly different paths, there was never a doubt of that love.

To have shunned his sister, and for her to come back to him anyway, spoke of guilt and a fledgling trust. A one-sided loyalty, if any.

The ride to the Armstrong estate was quiet. Most of them understood the repercussions of what Roderick had done to Mustang. If Amelie could fix it, only time would tell.

* * *

 _Roy looked around the room and waited. He would bide his time. The calculations had to be perfect. The aim had to be just so. The slightest misjudgment would cause too much headache to be undone. He would have to be quick if he wanted to get out alive. Otherwise, he was sure he would be swallowed whole and destroyed. Looking to his trusted partner, he nodded. Maes Hughes gave a little smile, just as aware as Roy was how much danger they were in._

 _Screaming at the top of their lungs, they charged into the room with water balloons at the ready in a bucket. The five girls scattered, pelted in turn with their liquid bombs. Roy made doubly sure to hit Amelie first. The two-year old seemed more in shock than anything else. Rebecca and Tanya jumped onto the bed, higher and just as old as Roy and Maes and unwilling to take the assault siting down. They grabbed spray bottles of perfume and aimed. Both boys stopped dead and quickly emptied the chilled water in the bucket onto the remaining girls as a last-ditch attempt to give them the upper hand._

 _The bed sheets getting most of the water, Roy and Maes turned tail and ran from the room. While the girls screeched and screamed for Chris Mustang to intervene, they found the back door to the yard and continued running. Looking up at the bedroom window, they saw Vanessa lean back with a bottle of something in her hand. She chucked it at them, narrowly missing. It exploded on the grass, the overwhelming smell of violets and roses threatening to taint them._

 _Stick his tongue out, Roy gave an urging tug on Maes' sleeve to get him running again._

 _"Roy! You get back here!" Rebecca yelled out from the open window._

 _Ignoring the call, he and Maes ran towards the shrubs that lined the property. They would be safer if they took refuge at Maes' house until the war zone was almost forgotten. They were about to duck under the branches when the older boy stopped. Roy paused, unsure why his best friend wasn't following._

 _"She's following us again!" Maes complained._

 _Roy turned to look and saw his white-haired half-sister running clumsily after them, "Let's ditch her! Come on."_

 _They ducked under the shrubs, laughing at the easy escape. The awkward two-year old fell once, never halting to cry. But Roy and Maes ran on, laughing._

* * *

 _There was one thing Maes knew better than life, and that was the look his mother was currently giving him. Hanging up the phone pointedly and keeping the boys pinned with a glare, Mrs. Elaine Hughes beckoned them closer with a raised eyebrow._

 _"You two have some explaining to do."_

 _Hands folded behind their back, Maes and Roy trudged forward. Maes tried to smile, only to be cut off by his mother clearing her throat._

 _"What made you two think you could do that? Those girls didn't need to be treated that way. I've raised you better, Maes."_

 _"Sorry," her son replied quietly._

 _She gave an exasperated sigh, "Ever since you two started hanging out, it's been nonstop trouble! Ms. Mustang and I thought it would be good for you two, but I'm starting to think maybe we were wrong. It's been one mess after another! Water balloons this week; frogs in the classroom last week; a hoax fire alarm the week before that! Maybe you both need to spend more time with your sisters! Roy, you should go home. Maes, you're grounded for a week."_

 _Maes opened his mouth to protest, "But we—"_

 _"Two weeks!" his mother out-voiced him. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Maes gave a sad look to Roy, knowing his punishment would no doubt be worse. Chris Mustang was a lot of things, but merciful was not one of them._

 _"Roy, head on home. Maes will be over in an hour to help you clean up the mess you made."_

 _Roy nodded his head, "Yes, ma'am."_

 _Sullen petulance engraved on his face, Roy trod the well worn path that linked the back yards of neighboring houses. Getting closer to home, he could hear the angry shouts and was somewhat jealous of Maes being grounded. Grounded meant they wouldn't be able to see each other. And it also meant housework. But Roy was sure his own punishment would be cruel and unusual. Such was the penchant of his foster mother._

 _Chris was standing in the doorway, waiting with a smirk. He looked down at his feet. He didn't like that look. It meant she'd already devised a punishment for him._

 _"Was it worth it?" she asked kindly._

 _He paused at the stoop, "No."_

 _"Oh, come on, hearing them scream like that was funny," she put her hand on his shoulder._

 _He looked up at her. She was smiling and he found it reflected on his own face, "Well..."_

 _"See? Admitting it was worth it is half the battle," she led him into the house and he couldn't help but continue smiling. Then he realized she was leading him directly to the room he'd just drowned. He couldn't alter course for the hand on his shoulder._

 _"Now, the rest of the battle is about seeing just what you did to them."_

 _She opened the door and, despite the broken shards of balloons and puddles of water, the girls, his foster-sisters, were smiling. He felt his heart sink down into his boots._

 _"Girls, Roy-boy here is willing to let you do his hair. And his makeup. And, he's even volunteered to do it all this week."_

 _Roy shot a horrified look up at the woman, "No...no..."_

 _She smiled down at him, "It'll be good for you, Roy. You might learn to respect just how much work goes into a teenaged girl's routine. And I'm sure you'll realize just how much it can be worth it when you go to school like that this week."_

 _Taking her hand from his shoulder, Ms. Mustang walked out and left him to his fate._

* * *

 _Maes couldn't help but laugh aloud. And Roy, fists clenched at his side, had the overwhelming urge to knock that smile and those glasses right off his best friend's face. Done up with miniature pigtails all over his head, blue eyeshadow and ruby-red lips, Roy Mustang looked anything but intimidating. The pink on his cheeks was only half from blush; the rest was pure fury._

 _"Stop laughing!"_

 _Maes doubled over, clutching at his gut. They stood toe to toe in the girls' room. The culprits of Roy's makeover had retired to the study for their evening homework. Roy and Maes were left to clean the mess up._

 _"You look like a doll!"_

 _"I said shut up!"_

 _"Oh, I really hope they got a picture of this!"_

 _"Maes! Stop it!"_

 _His friend actually fell to his rear and continued laughing, unconcerned that he was sitting in a sopping spot of carpet. Roy just stood there, an irritated line of a human being. He only averted his angry eyes when a set of footsteps came running towards them._

 _"Roy, have you—"_

 _"Go away!" Roy screamed at his foster sister, Vanessa._

 _Unperturbed by the voice, she rolled her eyes at him, "Seriously: have you seen Amelie? We went to bring her into the study...and she's nowhere in the house."_

 _Maes stopped laughing. Roy's body went slack and he darted past Vanessa. Maes scrambled to his feet and followed, trailing after Roy as the boy bolted down the stairs._

 _"You're not going out like that, are you?" he asked._

 _"She went to follow us, didn't she?"_

 _Maes hesitated, his brain catching up with Roy's. He sped up his steps, catching up to the trickster. Pigtails and all, Roy dashed out into the backyard and looked around. The telltale white hair was nowhere to be found. He and Maes had let her tag along once or twice when they were charged with babysitting, but she'd never gone out on her own. Not to mention, she was only two. Finding a well-worn path to Maes house might have been easy if she was following them two steps behind, but by herself..._

 _"Amelie!" Roy called out._

 _Maes echoed him, heading for the shrubs they'd ducked under. Roy followed. The next yard held no promise and they ran around the house for a long moment before heading towards the back of the property that faced the river. Their path had always led them along its banks._

 _"Ammy!" Roy cupped his hands around his mouth, megaphoning his voice._

 _"You think she made it to my house?" Maes asked hopefully._

 _"Your mom would call, wouldn't she?"_

 _Maes deflated, "Yeah. You don't think she went in the water, do you?"_

 _Roy's heart sank and a million possibilities ran through his mind. A small child, washed to the banks downstream. There would be no living with the guilt. No way to say it wasn't his fault. His whole life would be ruined if she were gone._

 _"Ammy!" he yelled again, renewed frenzy in his voice._

 _To any passerby on the other side of the river, a dolled-up, black-haired, tween-aged boy screaming a seemingly meaningless word was nowhere near to the worried and guilty 9-year old who'd ditched his last true family in favor of a clean getaway. His heart was beating thick in his throat when he crossed the property line into the next yard. And the one after that, still crying out for Amelie. The air was starting to chill and the sky was getting bronzed. When they got to Maes' back yard with still no sight of his sister, Roy collapsed to his knees._

 _"I lost her."_

 _"She's got to be around here somewhere. I mean, she's only two. How far could she go?"_

 _"You don't think someone took her, do you?" Roy asked, voice laced with panic._

 _"Who'd want her? She's not even talking yet which if you ask me—"_

 _"Shut up, Maes! She's missing!"_

 _Maes sighed and looked around, "What if she kept going? Just kept following the river?"_

 _Roy stood, his feet pushing him to the riverside again. Walking, closer to running, along the steep bank, he couldn't push the image of a small body being washed ashore out of his head. That white hair muddied and tangled._

 _Two houses down, he felt his heart leap into his throat. Her white hair stood out like nothing else could at twilight. He ran, Maes following him. His baby sister was curled up, crying at the water's edge. She was soaked, and had gotten red clay mushed all in her clothes and hair, the steep bank the culprit. Roy could see where she'd fallen. Her hands were covered in the thick grime from trying to climb out. He skid down the bank, an easy task for his age, and fell to his knees next to her._

 _She looked at him, eyes puffing out from the tears, and desperately grabbed at him, clutching his clothes and pulling him close. He wrapped his arms around her and quickly lifted her. Covered in makeup, hair products, clay and tears, he let Maes help him back up the bank before turning back to the house._

 _Roy could feel her shivering. Her tears and sobs were subsiding with each step he took. And through it all, she kept her tiny fist wrapped around a clump of his shirt. Never a word, never anything more than grateful security when she fell asleep in his arms._

* * *

 _Having caught a cold from the exposure, his baby sister was stuck in bed for a few days. Roy never left her side and their foster mother didn't force him to endure another makeup session. Refusing to leave even to go to school, the boy had fallen asleep again on the floor of Amelie's room. And when Chris Mustang came in the next morning to serve him breakfast, she smiled and left well enough alone._

 _Amelie had crawled down from her bed to sleep with her brother on the floor, dragging her blanket down with her to cover them both._

* * *

Consciousness was a distant shore and he was swamped by thick, black water that crashed over him each time he tried to clamber onto solid ground. Forcing himself to drag on, he finally found footing. His eyes opened to see a swirling room, ornate and gilded. Soft silk covered him, shielding him from the world. The gentle roar of a hearth fire cast golden tones across the room. Turning his head, Roy steeled himself against the gyrating room. Exhaling deep, he forced his eyes to focus.

His sister sat at his bedside and her gentle smile welcomed him and soothed his aching body. The tiny hand in his own was hers, and he gave a soft squeeze. A single tear crept down her cheek.

"Hey," he rasped. His throat felt like it had sand lodged in it, "Where are we?"

"The Armstrong estate. Riza thought it safer than your home."

She cupped her hand behind the nape of his neck and brought a glass of crystal water to his lips. It washed away the taste of soot and copper from his mouth and he gave a contented sigh. She put the glass away and took his hand in her own again. Refreshed, he quickly took silent stock. His wounds had been healed, but the ache of them was a recent throb. His bare hands were dry, stripped of his gloves. Head pounding, he could hear his own heart resound in his ears. It felt as though he'd run around the whole of Amestris, his body demanded rest so. His last conscious memory flashed clear in his mind and he sighed.

"Bastard took my alchemy."

Amelie only nodded.

"I assume you took care of my wounds." Again, only a nod. Roy inhaled deep before sighing. The heavy silence was a cold comfort. But still... "Thank you. For coming for me."

Amelie looked at their joined hands, "I'm sorry I didn't make it sooner."

"Why did you come back at all?" he asked.

Her eyes met his and he shuddered slightly to see so much determination and love in them. She gave an apologetic smile, "You're my brother."

His heart swelled and he summoned all his strength to sit up and pull her into a bear hug, wrapping her tight in his arms. She returned it and he could feel her tears drip into the crook of his neck. She felt so warm, like life itself, that letting go was hard. He sat propped against the headrest and watched her cuff tears from her eyes.

"Forgive me? For not being the brother you deserved. I should have taken care of you, protected you, and I was too blinded by ambition to even do that."

"There's nothing to forgive. And I will do everything I can to fix this."

"You have ideas?"

Those meek, black eyes looked inward, seeing the world of the Gate inside her own head. The furrowed line of her brow inspired little confidence, but Roy waited patiently while her genius worked through itself.

"I'd have to test a few theories first. Are you feeling strong enough to get dressed?"

"As long as there's a meal in it for me," he gave a teasing smile that belied his exhausted body's limitations. She nodded and left his side, returning a moment later with his Amestrian blues, mended and free from stains. While being stripped down to his boxers, and the thought he hadn't been awake to do so himself, made him uneasy, the sight of that starched cotton familiarity put him at ease. She laid them on the bed and he eyed them.

"Please tell me I somehow managed to undress myself?"

Amelie rolled her eyes and offered her hands to help him out of the soft bed. He waved her away and gingerly swung his feet to touch cold, polished stone. She handed him the white shirt and her smirk was unmistakable.

"What?" he asked in annoyance, snatching the shirt from her.

"I didn't undress you. And you definitely didn't do it yourself."

He pulled the shirt over his head, silently amazed that his wounds weren't yelling at him for the motions it took to do so. Still, his sister's goading did little to assuage his fears that one of his men, or worse, Fullmetal, had been called upon to help.

"And you won't tell me who did?"

She shrugged, "More fun to see you sweat about it. I'll be downstairs when you're presentable," her lithe figure started to move away and Roy called her name quietly. She paused, looking to him. The firelight danced over her white hair and ivory skin.

"I mean it. Thank you."

The self-conscious smile took root and she nodded before turning away. The door clicked shut and he sighed, hoisting himself out of the tempting bed by sheer will alone. He dressed, tucking the crisp white into his pants. The blue jacket, studded with his insignia and rank, he held in front of himself and stared at it. Were those few bits of gold what he'd abandoned his sister for? Almost a decade of their lives spent apart. She was no child anymore. The world had made her a woman, foibles and all, and he hadn't been around to witness any if it. Worse, he hadn't protected her from it. Even with her ebony eyes seeming so much like his own, they reflected a jaded weariness. Sights that she never should have had to see. Who knows how long she'd run, the hot heel of the law's warrant chasing her, keeping her moving and distant. Roy's world was stable, even with the unpredictable nature of it, and he couldn't imagine being so dislocated from friends, comrades, the sanctuary of his own home. She'd had no such comforts and Roy swore to himself that would change the moment he could affect such a decision. He would exonerate her. He would testify her extenuating circumstances to the congress even at the risk of his own dismissal.

Tossing the jacket back onto the foot rail of the bed, Roy Mustang walked out of his rambling thoughts to stop a madman.


	9. The Gate

**The Gate**

Watching Amelie walk down the red-carpet stairway, Riza saw thoughtfulness in her features, highlighted with loving concern. For perhaps the first time since the young woman had arrived, there was a fragile confidence in her gait. Roy's wounds had been healed, and the white-haired woman had assured her that the lingering exhaustion from his ordeal would be his only danger.

No one had dared say what the underlying tension only reiterated. Holding out some small hope, Riza walked quietly to meet the young alchemist at the base of the stairs. She didn't bother asking, only waited with crossed arms. Amelie met her gaze for a brief moment before those dark orbs scanned the room.

"He's awake. I'm going to make him some dinner."

"What about his alchemy?" Edward asked.

"His connection to the Gate's been severed. His alchemy is gone."

The cloud that shrouded the room was palpable. Everyone had been holding onto some shred of hope, fragile and thin, that the General would escape that fate.

Jean stepped forward, "You're the strongest alchemist alive. You can fix it, right?"

The blatant compliment wasn't lost on Amelie, and she shifted on her feet but kept her eyes locked on them, "I have ideas. First, he needs to regain his strength."

Those inky eyes begged Riza to follow her as she walked to the cavernous kitchen. Normally bustling with wait staff, it was eerily quiet and the flickering flames in the hearth mixed with the moonlight to bathe the whole room in warm, white liquid light. Amelie pulled small fruits from the cold bin and rinsed them under the faucet water. Riza silently went about preparing a sandwich. It was a strangely comfortable silence, and the Captain was loathe to disrupt it, but her manners nagged at her.

"Thank you for your intervention."

The small paring knife was effortlessly placed against tender, juicy flesh to make neat segments of vibrant color, "I just wish I'd gotten there sooner."

"Still, I know what the General means to you, and your history. No one would have blamed you for staying away."

Amelie offered a warm, knowing smile, "Could you?"

Momentarily confused, Riza hesitated. Amelie's smile widened ever so slightly and she looked back down to the fruit she was preparing, "I know how you feel about him, and even if he made a mistake, could you turn away from him?"

Riza didn't bother denying anything. She knew that Amelie had insight, but the question was valid even if those specific emotions didn't come into play, "No. I doubt I could ever leave him."

If Amelie approved or disapproved of the emotion Riza tried to hide, she made no word of it. They continued their tasks and the sound of Roy reappearing brought a quick swathe of relief to the Captain's heart. She placed the finished sandwich on a small plate and Amelie added her fruit to it. Their hands touched as Riza held the plate out and she gasped to feel the cold radiating from Amelie's.

Her reaction made Amelie pull her hands back instinctively, and Riza suddenly realized the young woman had been scared that the touch had hurt her. She offered a gentle smile, "Your hands are so cold," she observed, "Do you want some tea? Or something warm to eat?"

Amelie's furrowed brow relaxed and she cupped her hands in front of herself, "No, thank you. In the heat, my hands feel cool. In the cold, they feel warm. Strange side effect of my alchemy so far as I can tell. When we were children, Roy was always layering blankets over me, afraid I'd catch cold."

Riza wanted to tell her just what the General had learned. Wanted her to know that he understood now just what she'd done and had been forced to do. Instead, she looked towards the living room, "He may not know how to say it, but he does care for you."

"He cares for you, too," Amelie said with utmost assurance. Riza met her gaze and said nothing. Amelie smiled pensively and stared at her brother from the shadows of the kitchen, "He told you what happened? To him and Maes?"

"He said you put them in the hospital."

"I accidentally transmuted their souls. Not enough to kill them, but enough to know them. He loved you then. I would bet my life he still does."

Shifting her weight on the balls of her feet, Riza looked at the meal on the plate in her hands, "His career comes first."

Amelie nodded without judgement and started to walk towards the main room again. She hesitated and Riza followed her gaze to see Roy sitting, ever regal, in an armchair.

"It won't always," Amelie smiled, walking into the warmth of the company ahead. Riza followed a few steps behind. Idle prater kept everyone busy until the General finished his meal. Amelie had taken a seat at the patio doors, staring at the moonlit snow as it whispered down to the ground. Edward and Alphonse were catching up with the others, and Riza kept her distance from it all, preferring to watch her General's actions.

His wounds were healed with precision and there was hardly a flicker of discomfort in his motions. Despite his loss, he didn't seem at all concerned. She could almost see the beginnings of a plan in his mind.

"So," he inhaled deep, drawing the attention of everyone in the room except for Amelie, "What is our status? Has Roderick broadcasted his victory yet?"

Riza shook her head, "No, sir. Fuery has been monitoring all radio broadcasts. Nothing."

"Good. We can use that to our advantage. No doubt he'll gloat about his victory come lunch, tomorrow. That's when most folks are tuned in, I believe?" Roy looked to Fuery.

The younger man nodded, "It does fit his pattern."

"How exactly do you plan to make it a benefit?"

"We'll all go about our duties tomorrow. When Roderick makes his broadcast, we'll hold a press conference. There, I will show everyone that the Flame Alchemist is not so easily extinguished."

There was a momentary silence. None of them were catching up to his train of thought and Riza admitted she hadn't quite made the jump, either.

"Sorry to shatter your confidence, Mustang, but you're not making flames anytime soon," Ed spoke out.

Roy smiled and looked across the room at Amelie, "Not me, but no one has to know that."

Every head in the room followed his gaze. Amelie turned towards the conversation and her brow was furrowed. Riza didn't doubt the prodigy could handle the technical aspects of the alchemy which had bolstered Roy's fame. The more pressing question was her dedication and being so close to so many of the military which had hunted her before.

"Could you do it?" Roy asked.

Amelie faced him, "Yes."

"How close would you need to be?"

"Anywhere I can see you, just so I can time it properly."

"If the press broadcasts it, it'll undermine Roderick's credibility," Armstrong smiled.

"That is the plan."

"There's something more going on," Amelie said softly.

Roy waited patiently for his sister to collect her thoughts and Riza tried to hide a smile as the young woman came closer, the firelight making her seem translucent. So much of her brother inside her, and she was just now discovering it.

"What is it?" Roy asked gently.

"When I was at the warehouse, I tried to feel Roderick. I felt death. There was some...ulterior motive for all this. He's not just planning to rid Amestris of alchemy."

"If I have specifics tomorrow, it'll do a lot to discredit him."

Amelie's gaze was inward, her mind searching for the words to complete her thoughts, "I'm not even sure how he took your alchemy. The Gate isn't transient like Truth is; each of us can only affect our own."

Jean gave an apologetic smile, "Remember that not all of us are alchemy geniuses. Could you break it down?"

She continued on without missing a beat, "Anyone can do alchemy. Everyone has a Gate inside them that gives them access to alchemy. For some, the connection is stronger than others, but everyone has it. It's always been an understood principle that no one can affect the Gate of another. Roderick took your alchemy by destroying your Gate. I don't know how he did it."

"Could you reverse it?" Riza asked softly.

"At this point, no. But, I have a theory about what he's doing. And what I gleaned from him…He's not going to stop with alchemists."

"What makes you say that?" Roy leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"There was a feeling in him at the warehouse that...I think he wants to destroy the Gate inside everyone. And he'd need an immense circle to do so. Doing so would give him all the power he needed to destroy this country, or any other."

"Back up…how? Exactly?" Ed's brain was trying to keep up.

"It's a different side of my alchemy. When I…when I kill someone, I do it by tearing their soul away from their own Gate. The body dies and their soul is pulled like a moth to flame, through me into my Gate, into death. All of their knowledge, their memories, feelings, everything becomes a part of me. Roderick can't draw out a soul. But by destroying the Gates of everyone—"

"He could kill anyone and take their knowledge from them when their soul passes through him," Alphonse finished.

Amelie nodded somberly.

"So, not only is he a hypocrite and using alchemy, he's just doing it for power. He wants a country and is willing to kill to get it," Roy mused aloud, "He wouldn't be a threat to just a small population anymore. He'd be making an enemy out of every Amestrian citizen."

"So, the question remains: can you undo what he did?" Ed crossed his arms.

"I'd have to talk to Truth first. And…what confuses me is the difference between you two," she looked between Roy and Edward, "You both lost your alchemy. I can still feel Ed's energy because he was at the Gate. But Roy's…When we were in the hospital, I thought he'd been killed because I lost that sensation. I can't feel you anymore," her eyes met Roy's and quickly turned to the ground, "I have to find out why there's a difference. It may be the secret to undoing what Roderick did."

"When you say you need to talk to Truth..." Roy started hesitantly.

"I would need you two to come with me. To see Truth. It might be the only way to figure it out."

Riza's gaze was focused entirely on Roy. She could see the muscles tense beneath his jaw and he inhaled deep. He'd been on the receiving end of Amelie's alchemy once before, and that single moment had done more to damage their relationship than anything else. Now, he had to choose. And she wouldn't let him without knowing the facts.

"Is it dangerous?" she asked quietly.

Amelie shook her head, "No. This is different than...Neither of you would be at risk of dying. If you don't resist the alchemy, it won't hurt. The only risk is hypothermia. When we're there, it drains the body. Makes us cold."

"What about everyone else? Any risk to my men?" Roy asked.

"As long as no one touches us, no. While the transmutation is active, we're all conduits. Someone touching us could be drawn in."

Roy looked over to Edward, "Fullmetal? Up for this?"

With a thick sigh, the blonde shrugged, "I've been to the Gate before. I'm up for it."

With Fullmetal's agreement, Roy nodded, "Then let's get it done. See if we can't get to the bottom of this."

Casting a glance to Riza, the young white-haired woman steeled herself, "You'll want to put some blankets by the fire to warm. I won't need one. When this is done, I'll probably be catatonic for a short time. It's normal," she cast her black eyes back to Roy and Ed, "You'll feel like you're drowning. Just make sure you don't fight it," she warned.

"Not very comforting," Roy allowed.

The slight shuffling of her feet and Riza could see uncertainty in the younger woman's next moves. While she no doubt had every confidence in her own abilities, being in control of her brother wasn't something Amelie had ever been mentally prepared for.

"Can you both kneel?" she asked timidly.

Both men shared a glance before they put their knees to the ground. They knelt there, and Amelie flexed her hands. She hesitated to reach out and, if Riza hadn't been close, she would have missed Roy whispering that he trusted her and the soft smile of gratitude on Amelie's face.

Her hands drifted out and came to rest gently on the foreheads of Roy and Ed. For what felt like a long moment, Riza held her breath and nothing happened. Amelie's whole body undulated with a soft inhale. A fledgling, golden glow seemed to light her from within and her open eyes were staring into oblivion beyond the confines of the room they were all in. The light gathered in her fingertips and met the skin of the men in front of her. With one soft exhale, the light grew and encompassed all of her and them, shafts of it piercing the room and casting rainbows and shadows across the lush fabrics.

Riza watched her commanding officer with every bit of concentration she could muster. His jaw went tense and the slightest sound of discomfort got past his clenched teeth. Every instinct in her body demanded this be stopped when she saw him gasp, but his eyes closed peacefully a short moment later and the rigid lines of his body relaxed. It appeared Edward had a similar reaction and he, too, gave into whatever feelings were overcoming his instincts.

It seemed everyone was entranced by the scene before them. The golden tendrils of light emanating from Amelie were caressing both Flame and Fullmetal like zephyrs of scent from a champagne bottle. The young woman appeared translucent, a human lamp lit from within by the aureate alchemy she'd summoned. A stark contrast to the other side of her alchemy, this was a gorgeous sight to behold.

* * *

Roy shuddered and felt ground rush up to meet him. The heavy thud of his body forced the air from his lungs with an audible _oomf_. Next to him, Fullmetal met the same hard surface. Shaking his head from the twinge of dizziness, he saw Amelie's feet in front of him. He stood. She was already facing the Gate and a white, androgynous figure. He shared a glance with Fullmetal. The younger man said nothing. Amelie seemed entranced, her eyes half lidded and her mouth ever so slightly open.

"Ah, they've arrived," the white figure said with a voice that was a cacophony of tones.

Jumping slightly when the white figure passed through Amelie to approach them and seeing no ill-effect on his sister, Roy steeled himself, "You were expecting us?".

"She said she was bringing you."

"What have you done to her?" Edward asked.

"Only what she's asked of me. I give her what knowledge she seeks. She'll be back with us in a moment. Once the knowledge is gained."

The Gate creaked open. Roy's teeth clenched. But instead of the black tendrils which had haunted him in his dreams many a fervid night, a soft golden glow poured out. The white void was filled with it, so bright that Amelie's silhouette was almost drowned out even though she was only standing a few paces ahead of them. Having to squint just to overcome the scintillating lights, Roy saw a taller, opaque form emerge from the epicenter. The figure had dark hair and was a few good inches taller than Roy himself. The refraction of light through glasses coming from behind and Roy felt his heart jump into his throat.

"Maes…" he whispered and took a step forward.

The white figure smiled without a face and stopped him. Roy couldn't push forward to see his best friend; the white was immoveable.

"You have no claim to such a privilege. Only she has such coffers to speak with those gone before," it intoned.

"She can speak with the dead?" Edward asked, entranced as Roy was.

"If she chooses to. If she's willing to endure it."

"What?" Roy asked quickly, his sharp glare switching from his sister and best friend to the white form in front of him, "Endure it…?" he repeated.

The smile on that featureless face widened and yet uttered no words. Roy's attention was wrought to his sister again as she started to cry out in pain and fell to her knees. Maes knelt with her and the Flame could see now that his best friend had a hand on each of her temples. Roy tried to push forward but found he couldn't move. His sister's cries became more anguished, a mixture of sadness and wrenching pain.

"Amelie!" he screamed.

"She can't hear you. She asked for knowledge. The Gate will give it to her."

Roy could only watch, helpless and frozen, as his sister continued to cry out and clench her fists around air, seeking a release for her pain. He couldn't see Maes' face, or any consolation that his sister was in control of the visit to this white hell any longer.

* * *

Jean had to fight with his instincts. The peaceful glow coming from Amelie, while it continued, had become cold and sharp. Amelie was sobbing, crying out in pain. Roy and Edward were unaffected, and perhaps that was the only reason he and Riza hadn't tried to stop the whole ordeal. Whatever pain Amelie was suffering from, it hadn't harmed the General, or Fullmetal. Still, Jean felt helpless. His tight fists clenched and unclenched, dying to rush in and save the woman who had already shown him trust. He hated that she was in pain. Hated seeing her enduring so much for them who had done nothing to deserve her help.

The light compacted and electric energy rebounded into Amelie's figure with a clap of thunder. Her whole body shuddered and her cries stopped. Being hit, her hands dropped from Flame and Fullmetal's foreheads. All three of them wavered. Roy and Ed had put their hands to their heads and blinked rapidly. Amelie's body became dead weight. Jean rushed forward and caught her as she fell. Her obsidian eyes wide open but focused on oblivion, she did nothing to stop her own fall. It brought Jean to his rear with the unexpected burden. Roy reached across and put a hand to her cheek. Jean could see him shivering and could hear his teeth chatter behind sealed lips.

Alphonse and Riza dashed in and enveloped the alchemists with the blankets Amelie had instructed them to warm. Edward pulled it tight around himself like a cloak. His body was visibly shaking. Roy kept contact with his sister, but suffered just as badly as Fullmetal.

"What happened?" Riza asked.

"She open-pened the G-Gate," Roy stuttered out, "Go-t what-t-ever kn-knowle-dge s-she ne-nee-needed."

"She was in pain," Jean retorted.

"Know-legde is-isn't fr-free," Ed chimed in.

"She said she'd be catatonic for a while. I think it best if you two warm up. We'll get you when she's awake," Riza said, making it clear that it was not a polite suggestion but an informal order.

To Jean's surprise, Roy nodded and stood. Still shaking, he looked down on him while Amelie was in his lap, "Ke-keep her s-safe."

"Yes, sir." Jean replied.

He watched his superior stumble, unassisted but escorted, up the stairs towards whatever room he'd been stationed in. Moving Amelie to the couch, he made sure her head was supported with a pillow. Even though she'd said she'd have no need for a warm blanket, he'd prepared one and laid it on her. Her face was angelic and relaxed. Her eyes were half-lidded.

"So, we just wait?" Fuery asked.

"I guess so," Breda sighed, "She didn't say how long she'd be out."

"Should we do anything to make her more comfortable?" Armstrong chimed in.

Jean shook his head, "I don't think she's even aware of us."

Even so, he couldn't help but take her hand in his and hold it gently. The warmth of it made him feel less helpless. Every soft breath reassured him. Each passing moment gave him hope. So powerful, so deadly, and yet she was fragile - maybe even more so than she let on. Stroking the back of her hand with his thumb and resting his free hand on her forehead, Jean waited. Waited and hoped that when she came to they would have answers.

* * *

Naomi had run. She'd met with, and successfully recruited, the disgruntled men and women whom Roderick had been adamant she speak with. The way back, she'd heard rumors of an attack. Rumors that only Roderick had walked away from an encounter with an alchemist. The mere thought of his injury had caused her to speed up. The solemn sadness in the halls made her run.

She knocked without hesitation on his door. Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest when he beckoned her in. He looked unharmed. His hunched shoulders were at his desk, writing. No wounds, no blood.

"I heard you were attacked?" she blurted out.

Roderick straightened his shoulders and stopped his journaling. He turned in his chair. His face was set in a manic grin and he nodded, "I was."

"What happened?"

"Those children - he took the bait, Naomi," Roderick stood from his chair and never stopped smiling, "He came for them just like I thought he would. He attacked. I cleansed him."

Her tense jaw softened and went slack in disbelief. The Flame Alchemist? Extinguished? A sharp little laugh escaped from her throat and she smiled back at the man who had overcome the biggest challenge to their revolution.

"It was magnificent! Oh, I wish you could have been there. I watched his flames wither away when I took his alchemy from him. He and his retreated in shame!"

"I heard whispers that we lost some of our own..." she tried to contain her joy over the substantial success and keep her mind focused on strategy, strength.

Even now, he was still smiling, "We lost some of our own but the Flame is gone and we can move forward with our plans. Let the people see their hero defeated and unable to save innocent lives. We'll have new recruits banging down the door!"

"How did he get away?"

Whether he'd heard her and ignored the question or was too enraptured with his own success, he continued, "I knew he would come. But enough of that; what about your meeting? Will they fight for us?"

She nodded while her mind was still trying to comprehend all that had happened in just one evening, "Yes. And they have the skills we need, along with the weaponry."

"Good. Send word. We'll be accelerating our attacks. I want more bombs, more targets. I want this city to feel the jaws of true freedom around its throat!"

"Of course. But what about the Flame's escape?"

Roderick threw his journal to the wall; the loose pages spilled out and covered the cement floor, "That white-haired woman…"

Naomi froze, her stiff back aching for the thick silence between them. Roderick's shoulders lowered slowly, his anger dissipating. The sibilant whisper of his breath coming from his nose was threatening in its innocuousness. Her eyes she cast down the floor, idly trying to find something, anything, that would alleviate the tension.

"I need you to focus on arming our brothers and sisters. If the military retaliates, we must have the means to defend our cause. That is where your attention should be."

"Of course. I'm sorry, Roderick," she said quickly, grateful for the redirection.

"Don't be sorry. Just make sure we can match the Central forces if need be. And if we get any news on the white-haired woman, I want to know it. Dismissed."

Turning her back, Naomi crossed the breadth of the room and closed the door behind her, unwilling to take any chance that Roderick would see her shaky knees, or the petered exhale she let out. She had to pretend that his outburst was nothing more than adrenaline. They had scored a huge victory. No doubt his excitement was more volatile than anything.

Swallowing down her fear, her resolution and the soft disbelief of the Flame's fate, she walked back down towards the gathering hall; with any luck there would be some food and warm comfort in the company of those she'd spent so long with.

* * *

Riza placed another blanket over her commanding officer. They'd moved the wingback chair directly in front of the fire and he was leaning into it, hands out for warmth. She gingerly reached across him and brought his hands back in towards his torso. He spared her a look. Even for the cold she felt, she couldn't help the quick rush of heat that tainted her cheeks. She pulled away and stood at ease.

"Your hands will warm once your core is stabilized," she reasoned.

He nodded and looked back to the flames. His face, even for the subtle chattering of his teeth, was stoic and pensive. She could see the heaviness of new thoughts come over him. So much unspoken, but she could understand all of it. Still, she remained quiet.

"She o-opened the G-Gate and s-she me-t M-Maes."

Riza felt her chest go solid, unable to bring in air.

"Wh-whatev-er he showed h-her is wha-what caused her p-pain."

"Why General Hughes?" she asked softly.

"I don't k-know. I cou-couldn't help her. Couldn't s-save her."

"Amelie isn't inexperienced. She knew what this would cost. I'm just glad you and Edward are safe, sir."

Roy looked at her and the heat she had tried to hide earlier crept back into her cheeks. If he noticed, he said nothing, only returned his coal eyes to the flames that soothed him. The tremors which racked him started to subside.

"She said we would be," he lowered his voice; his conviction melted away the last breathe of ice that clung to him.

A small chest nearby looked large enough to serve as a stool. She sat and let the fire warm her even though she was sure the blush in her cheeks would do it on its own. Roy continued to have a random chill, but gradually relaxed. The tenseness in his shoulders subsided.

"What happened that day, sir?" she asked.

"We were arguing. More, I was yelling at her, threatening to turn her in. It was right after we got back from Ishbal. You were still…you were still healing," he allowed. Her own gears turned in her head. She remembered that time spent hiding. Unable to go to the hospital to gain relief from her burns, she had holed herself up in her apartment to heal. It had been a rough few weeks, and she wasn't surprised to find that he'd hidden his encounter with Amelie until now. Mentioning it back then would have only made things worse for them both. His guilt over absolving her of her father's sins was horrible enough to bear. Knowing he worried her by being in the hospital himself would have only made it worse.

"Maes was with us. He'd arranged for us to meet. He was staying with Gracia, and had somehow gotten in contact with her. I was so angry at him for bringing her to me. More angry at myself for not just walking away. Inevitably, the fight got worse. We were inches apart and then I…I said I wished she'd been killed by those soldiers; they deserved a better fate than to be killed by her."

"She turned to walk away and Maes grabbed her by the arm to stop her. It was instant. He gasped and starting going blue. Looking back, it was my fault. She was too upset. Her alchemy is driven by emotion and she couldn't control it. It starting killing him. She tore herself away. He'd fallen to the ground. Like an idiot, I lunged at her. When I touched her…it started happening to me, too. I think she started screaming. No. I know she did."

* * *

 _She stood, hands clutched to her own front. She hadn't meant to do alchemy. Hadn't meant to inflict such pain on someone so undeserving of it. She backed away while the bespectacled man convulsed on the ground. Roy knelt next to him, trying desperately to stop the spasms. He looked at her, fear and condemnation on his face._

 _"What did you do?" he yelled at her._

 _She shook her head, "I'm sorry...I didn't...I'm sorry!"_

 _He charged at her._

* * *

"The next thing I remember, I woke up in the hospital. She was leaning over Maes and she looked like she'd gone through hell, covered in blood and soaking wet. I didn't give her a chance to even talk. I pulled the emergency call cord. I tried to use my alchemy on her, but she escaped out the window when the MPs rushed in. That was the last time I saw her until she showed up in the pub."

* * *

 _Amelie kept her hooded jacket tight around her face. The rain would at least give her an excuse as she walked, sopping wet, through the hospital. Idly looking for the door she'd been instructed to find, she opened it to see her brother and Maes, both asleep._

 _It had been close. She wasn't sure to what extent she'd done her alchemy, but she knew how to make them better. At least she could do that. Get them whole again. Tossing back the hood of her jacket, she closed the door and locked it. Maes' breathing was irregular. She could hear him rasp and wheeze. Roy was no better off. She'd done this to them and her only concern was now undoing it._

 _Moving to Roy's bedside first, she gently sat next to him. The bed dipped a bit, but he remained asleep. The plastic tubing that was connected to the back of his palm was no doubt responsible for his deep slumber. Leaning over him, she touched each of his temples with a hand. Her alchemy rushed through him, piecing back together the soul she'd inadvertently damaged earlier. His breath hitched and she yanked her hands from his skin, afraid he would wake up completely. But he remained asleep and she gave a little smile._

 _Moving to Maes' bed, she repeated the gesture, her alchemy running its course and healing what she'd injured. Finished, she stood and moved to replace her hood._

 _"You..."_

 _She froze, looking at Maes. He fumbled for something, his hand recklessly hitting the top of the nightstand that stood between his bed and Roy's. Finding his glasses, he put them on and stared at her. She couldn't move. Frozen by that knowing gaze._

 _It seemed Maes couldn't do much, either. He looked across the room to Roy and them back at her, "Amelie?"_

 _"It was an accident. I didn't mean to...I'm sorry." He reached for her and she pulled away, "Don't touch me."_

 _"The military police..."_

 _"I escaped," she answered softly._

 _"You have to turn yourself in...they'll reevaluate your case..." he tried sitting up but stopped, his body too weak after the ordeal._

 _"I can't stay."_

 _She watched his body rack with a silent cough, his lungs weak and demanding fresher air than what the hospital could give. Half-hunched, he was leaning precariously over the edge of the bed. She braced him while his cough got harsher, louder._

 _A red light started blinking. She snapped to look at it at the same time Maes did. Finding the red bulb over Roy's bed flashing intermittently, they both cast their gazes down to see Roy with his hand around the medical call switch by his bed. His obsidian eyes were slicing through her sopping clothes, cutting her._

 _Maes shook his head, "Roy..."_

 _But the attempt at clearing her of the present predicament only made him cough more. Amelie pushed him to lie back down on the bed, jumping when a heavy thud landed against the door. She looked back to Roy._

 _How hateful those eyes could be. How they judged her. She was left staring while the thudding against the door got louder, shouts and distinct military-issued commands joining the cacophony._

 _"Get. Out."_

 _"I just—"_

 _"Get out! Or let them shoot you! Either way, you'll be gone. Stay that way."_

 _She felt her fists clench at her side, her throat tighten and her eyes sting. Her brother…He was pulling on his firecloth glove._

 _The door started to give. Splintering wood, oppressed hinges creaking at the intrusion. She tore her gaze from his and ran for the window. It was only the second story. She could make it. Throwing it open, it let rain into the room, coating the tile floor at the base of the wall. She hesitated and looked over her shoulder at Roy._

 _He snapped._

 _Jumping the same time the door was busted in and the fireball hurtled towards her, she felt the heat whir harmlessly over her head while she fell away from the sill. She landed and rolled, the mud splashing up to meet her, coating her in oozing cold._

 _She got her feet under her and ran. Never looked back over her shoulder. Never stopped when she heard the orders shouted from above. Her tears mixed with the rain. The gray and dreary sky was shattered each time her foot landed in a new reflection._

* * *

Hawkeye stared at him while he saw his past mistakes laid out in the flames in front of him. She'd suspected that something along those lines had happened, but had never known just how close he and Maes had been to dying. He had been right to hide it from her all these years. For all they shared, that couldn't be something she knew about lest it taint her resolve to help him further his career.

Still, she'd seen just how powerful Amelie had been at the warehouse. To see that kind of raw, unbridled energy tear through solid metal and stone would make anyone wary of a person. To experience it, distrustful to say the least. But her alchemy hadn't been fueled by hatred or revenge.

"Sir, she loves you."

His black eyes met hers with faint signs of disbelief.

"When Roderick touched you, you collapsed. She defended you, thinking you had died. The alchemy she summoned was stronger than anything I've ever seen you control. It wasn't hate or grief or revenge that made her strong. It was love. She thought she'd lost you and it made her love you all the more. I'd be lying if I said I didn't know what that felt like," the words escaped her lips before she could recognize them in her mind.

His eyes turned inward, running her spoken admittance through his mind while she cleared her throat and quickly stood. She kept her back to him but she could feel his epiphanied gaze on her.

A short yelp from downstairs sprang her into action and they both bolted downstairs to see what commotion there was.

* * *

Roy watched Amelie as she huddled up in the corner of the grand sitting area. Jean was trying to placate her, hands out and gently coaxing her with words to calm down. It wasn't working. Her eyes were wide and every time Jean reached out towards her she turned away like a feral beast. All thoughts of love were pushed aside by duty and he quickly ordered Jean to step away lest she strike out at him like a cornered animal. Doing so begrudgingly, the younger man's jaw clenched tight.

"What happened?" Roy asked to the room as a whole.

The corner of his peripheral vision showed Fullmetal and his brother return from their retreat just in time to hear Fuery's explanation.

"She woke up and just kinda…freaked out."

Roy stepped closer and stood tall, "Amelie? Can you talk to me?" he asked.

Black eyes were darting around the room, blinking fast and frantic. Her lips were moving but only hushed sound was coming out. Something beyond the present had startled her so severely as to make her appear to have a full-blown manic episode. She welded her eyes shut and jolted her head backwards into the wall several times.

"Amelie?!" he snapped, more afraid she would hurt herself than him.

Her eyes widened and focused on him for a moment.

He stayed still, every nerve and muscle tense, "What happened at the Gate?" he asked.

The replay of events was going through her mind behind those deep eyes and she inhaled shakily. Some semblance of sanity came back to the forefront but she licked her lips and quickly began to pace towards them and away again and again.

"The strings will break and we can't even begin to let that happen because when it does then nothing will remain and everything dead will die and live and nothing will have rest or peace and he's going to tear everything apart even if it kills him but he can't possibly know what will happen I mean this is completely unheard of and really there's no way anyone could know what would happen but if it does happen then we'll all be forced to live and die but not in the way we think of and even that will change because everything will and there's nothing to—"

Her deranged rambling stopped only when Havoc took her by the upper arms and gave her a gentle shake. She jumped but caught her breath and stared at him.

"We can't help you if you don't slow down and tell us what you saw."

Her eyes softened and Roy made sure to file that interaction away for another conversation. As grateful as he was that she'd stopped her ranting, he was more impressed at Havoc handling her so roughly and her lack of instinct to retaliate.

"Slow down. Tell us what you mean," Roy reiterated.

She nodded and Havoc released his firm grip on her upper arms. She licked her lips, stumbling to find the words for a moment, "Roderick is using alchemy to destroy the Gate. He wants to do that on a massive scale but he doesn't understand that it won't stop there. If he tries to destroy thousands of Gates inside thousands of people, he'll set off a chain reaction that will end the world as we know it."

"How?" Edward asked.

"The Gate and Truth are connected by us. All of us. We link the two planes of reality together. Think of them as huge beams being pulled apart from one another in opposite directions. That force is constant and those who use it are called alchemists. They redirect that stored energy into themselves. If one Gate inside one individual is destroyed, the millions still in existence continue to hold those beams together, like equal strings are attached at each end. But if Roderick destroys thousands all at once, then—"

"There won't be enough strings left connecting the beams," Alphonse reasoned aloud, gently cutting Amelie off.

She nodded, her face still ashen, "Roderick will start a chain reaction that severs the two worlds from each other. The forces that pull them apart will be too strong and every string will break in turn."

"So no one will be able to do alchemy," Roy added.

"Worse. The strings will snap, will fray, and we'll be forced to live in never-ending agony. Our bodies dying but never able to die. The dead walking like somnambulists in constant, ethereal pain. The living and the dead will endure for eternity. It won't matter that alchemy is gone. Everyone will be torn out of their bodies but forced to suffer that pain endlessly. If he starts that transmutation, there's no way to stop it," her haunted eyes met his.

Roy felt the lump in his throat tighten and he could see Fuery and Breda sit. Armstrong was uncharacteristically quiet. Edward and Alphonse only shared a glance with one another. Riza crossed her arms over her chest and it was all Havoc could do to remain standing. The ramifications hit them all like lead bullets. Their breaths were gone in a collective moment of shock and realization. It wouldn't be the end of Central or Amestris. It would be the end of life.


	10. The Calm Before

**The Calm Before**

Jean splashed cold water on his face and pat himself dry with a short towel. Staring into the mirror, he paused. The explanation Amelie had given had made everyone uneasy. Still, the General had his plan and had changed it in a gambit to bring Roderick out of hiding once and for all. He only hoped that they lived through it. Not as though they hadn't faced overwhelming odds before but this was something truly evil and misguided.

He knew the role he had to play for this plan to work and he was grateful to be on the front lines. The time spent away from the last battle had haunted him; he constantly wondered if there had been more he could've done had he still been able to walk. Would he have made a difference?

He only wished he could be near Amelie for this battle. Shook up as she was, being around the troops tomorrow would be difficult. While Hawkeye was probably the best one to protect her, he wished fervently he'd been called upon to do it. His body, his heart even, demanded he shield her from everything and anything; if it was a fear of the military he was perhaps the least likely one to exacerbate that fear.

The short walk down the hall towards his own room for the evening took him past Amelie's room. He paused for a moment, considering apologizing for grabbing her earlier in the evening. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. Now, he worried he'd lost what little trust had been created. His knuckles poised to knock, he exhaled sharply and turned away, continuing his walk.

He heard a sniffle. A sob. He stopped to look back at that door, and knew the sounds of tears were coming from the occupant behind it. Turning back, he confidently placed a hand on the knob and gave a gentle twist to let himself in. Sure enough, Amelie was sitting in the bed and was drenched in moonlight, her tears highlighted by the blue glow.

"Amelie?" he whispered, closing the door behind himself.

She turned, startled, and quickly looked away again, rubbing her face with her palms, "Jean, hi."

"You okay?"

She nodded wordlessly and he could see the tension in her shoulders in the sob she held back. He kept walking closer until he stood in front of her to lean against the far side of the window frame. Her downward face was still glistening from salty tears she was trying to stop.

"You're not a very good liar," he tried to smile.

She finally looked at him with a defeated grin, "I suppose not."

"Sorry for just walking in but…I, well—"

"It's fine, Jean. I was just…scared…about tomorrow."

"Why?" he asked, although he was sure he already knew the answer.

"I don't want to be so close to so many soldiers. I don't want to be responsible for their lives."

"Hawkeye will be with you. She's the best shot in the army."

"She only cares for him. I won't be her priority if something goes wrong," Amelie stated with cold realism, "And if something goes wrong, I don't want to hurt anyone."

"You won't."

She looked away, "You don't know that. You don't know me."

He sighed, "Well, I saw you bring a warehouse down. Saw you save the General's life. Saw you go to the Gate and back. Saw you make diamonds out of thin air. Think I've seen enough to know not to mess with you," he tried to smile, hoping the lighthearted banter would work to calm her nerves. He waited, anxious. She only looked out the window at the falling snow. The light from the moon was ghosting across her ivory skin. She looked like a porcelain statue. Her countenance was so serene, so angelic, that he couldn't fathom not ever trusting her.

She sighed heavily, "It's all my fault."

"How?" he asked incredulously.

"I should've intervened sooner, before those terrorists even came to Amestris. I shouldn't have let myself get hurt in that bar. Even when Roy…it's my fault they tortured him; my fault I didn't know that he was walking into a trap…It's all my fault," she repeated, new tears overflowing her cheeks.

He wanted to console her so bad he had to fight with himself to make sure he didn't crowd her, "You couldn't have known these idiots would come after him. You saved our lives in that bar and the General made the decision to go after you."

"They used me to get to him. He never would have given up if they hadn't…" she trailed off, biting at her lips.

He knelt in front of her, feeling dread falling off her in droves, "If they hadn't what?" he prompted.

She met his eyes, "He let himself be chained to spare me, but they didn't…the didn't stop. They were going to rape me. Let him watch. He made a deal to save me. They tortured him in front of me and I couldn't even do anything to stop it."

A cold sweat dripped down his back; he'd had a hunch Amelie had been the bait to get the General in a compromising situation, but - his fists clenched in anger - raping just to prove a point?

She swallowed back the knot in her throat, "When he went down tonight, when I felt hollow, I wanted to use my alchemy. My whole life, I've wanted to be rid of it. Tonight was the first time I embraced it. And I killed people with it."

He touched her hands which were folded in her lap. The soft cotton of her pajamas was cool to the touch and he was grateful it calmed his indignant rage at what these terrorists, this Roderick, had wrought, "None of us blame you. None of this is your fault."

She was silent for a long moment, staring at the floors, "To be honest, I'd hoped you would be with me in that tower tomorrow," she admitted.

His heart jumped into his throat, "Well I'm not so good a shot as the Captain," he pulled his hand nervously from her lap.

"I feel safe around you. And I haven't felt safe in a long, long time," she sighed.

Ignoring the honey in her voice lest his give out, he cleared his throat and sat on the bed next to her, "The General's played this kind of poker a few times before. He knows what he's doing."

They sat in silence, staring out into the darkness and watching wisps of snow fall. His body was thrumming at how close she was. He could feel heat radiating from her like a fireplace and he took the towel off his shoulder. Even in his grey uniform undershirt, he felt too warm to trust his logical mind.

He cleared his throat again, "I wanted to apologize for earlier."

She looked at him, unsure, "For what?"

"For grabbing you the way I did."

Returning her gaze, he couldn't help but notice how close her lips were to his own. That last small distance between them was broached and he let his lips touch hers. They didn't give at first but then returned the kiss ever so gently and timidly. Warnings and encouragements ran through his dazed mind.

She pulled away, her hand to her slightly parted lips and he sat there, shocked at himself more than anything. His mind formed an apology. His heart was beating furiously in his ears. He readied himself for the rebuttal. Not only was she his commanding officer's sister, she had this huge trust issue with the military and he was crazy for thinking she'd even remotely consider him—

She leaned in softly and kissed him again. There was no hesitation. Only warmth. The spark in his gut transformed him, stoked by the rush of adrenaline. He touched her soft cheek, keeping their lips locked together. She melted against him. Between cloying breaths, he could feel her hands touch him back. She smelled like fresh rain, like warm, sun-kissed earth. In the haze he could hear her say 'don't' and he forced himself to stop in his gentle exploration of her exposed skin.

The cold returned and he pulled away, "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"No, I didn't…I just meant I haven't…I've never…been with anyone," she looked down, some pink tinge to her otherwise pale face, "I don't want to hurt you and I don't know…My alchemy is fueled by emotion."

He tilted her chin up slightly to meet his gaze, "You won't hurt me," he promised.

"But what if I can't control…anything?"

He kissed her gently and their foreheads touched after, "I'm not going to ask for anything you're not comfortable giving. But I'm willing to take that chance if it means being with you."

Eyes soft, she kissed him again. His hand cradled her angelic face and he lowered her to the bed. Her hand held him around his torso while he kissed every inch of her neck and exposed collarbone. She was silken, warm, and he could feel her fingers trail up his back to run through his short hair. Her balmy breath rolled past his ears with each little touch and hitched when he reached under her shirt. She was shivering even with the fervor she was igniting in him.

Eyes closed, lips locked again, he was overcome with lightheadedness and euphoria. His world was spinning. He opened his eyes trying to ground himself; he saw her softly lit from within with that same golden glow she'd displayed downstairs. Was this alchemy? In another dizzying wave of internal fervor, he leaned down and kissed along her neck that was bared to him. The tingling in his body was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Every sensation was amplified. Every moment lingered. Her soft moan and whisper of his name echoed slowly, rolling through his brain like a voice in a valley. The motions felt his body undulate and his mind lagged behind leaving him empty but filled with inebriated calm. Her body felt like a soporific live wire and each touch of her skin set off fireworks on his.

"Jean…"

"I'm here," he assured her.

"I don't want to hurt you…" she repeated breathlessly.

Hand on her face, fingers stroking her cheek, he smiled, "I trust you."

She surrendered. Whatever alchemy had been activated, Jean felt it encompass him, and her, wholly.

* * *

Admittedly, the Armstrong mansion was too opulent for his tastes. However, that opulence was coming in handy as Roy visualized his plans for the coming day on the full-wall, marble-and-gem-inlaid map of Central. It would be rough, and a lot of it depended on stroking Roderick's ego and ire. So long as Amelie made him look untouched, he had no doubt the plan would work.

He knew she could perform his alchemy. She'd deterred it and extinguished it in the past. Some of it wasn't too unlike her penchant for diamonds. The air was the ally and all she needed to do was control the composition of it. Still, she had to be close to him. Close to the soldiers who would no doubt be present. She was powerful but his confidence wavered in her ability to remain calm.

Initially, he wanted Riza to protect her in that tower. Amelie had protested, but he'd shut her down. Riza was the best shot and if anyone came to investigate them, she would be the easiest to escape without putting any lives in jeopardy. The last thing Roy wanted was for soldiers to come under fire for only doing their duty. That had already tainted Amelie and that trust was forever gone. Still, knowing that he was drawing Roderick out meant he was the most likely target.

Being a target without his Captain at his back left him uneasy. Perhaps Amelie's protest hadn't been illogical. Perhaps Havoc would be better suited to keep her guarded. She'd shown a level of trust with him that she hadn't shown with anyone else. The more relaxed she was, the less likely things were to go awry.

A heavy sigh proved to be his undoing. She was right. Hawkeye was better suited to be near him to avoid arousing suspicion. She would be happy to hear it. He walked towards her room. No doubt she would sleep easier knowing he'd changed the plan to accommodate her.

When he opened the door he wasn't surprised to see her asleep. He was surprised to see Havoc laying with bare chest to her back, propped up on an elbow and running his fingers through her tousled hair. The First Lieutenant quickly looked up at the soft sound of the door opening and they met each other's gaze. Roy backed out of the room and latched the door loudly. Standing there in the hallway with arms crossed over his chest he felt his heart beat slower while his eyes were dry. His jaw ached from being so tightly compressed. The door opened and shut again and Havoc stood there, half-naked with a blanket wrapped around his waist.

"Sir, I can ex—"

Roy held up his hand and welded his eyes shut, "Don't. You will be with Amelie in the tower tomorrow. Captain Hawkeye will remain with me. Is that clear?" he pinned his gaze on Havoc.

"Yes, sir, but let me —"

"I did not give you permission to speak freely, Lieutenant," Roy cut him off; his mind was running in a million different directions and none of them were civilized. Eyes wide at the brusque reminder of rank, Havoc's jaw worked and his brow furrowed, "I have always been gracious regarding the personal lives of my team. Do not take advantage of that. Am I clear?"

Havoc nodded, "Yes, sir."

Loathe to say 'as you were', Roy turned and sharply walked away down the hall towards his own room. He knew he'd seen it and still didn't want to fathom it. She was his little sister but really what right did he have to meddle in her affai—choices? She was an adult, capable of making her own decisions. Still, relationships complicated things. More than he cared to acknowledge or admit. Stalking away, he pushed the door to his own room wide open and saw a flurry of movement. Hand out, ready to snap, it was moot. The threat was in his mind, and his ignition glove was useless without the alchemy to amplify it. The drapes which surrounded the poster bed settled and proved to be the only animated thing in the room.

Lowering his poised hand, he rubbed the ache from his palm and crossed the room to the bed. His jacket was still tossed aside; the golden insignia caught the last flickering light from the hearth. Tomorrow he would lead his sister into the den of soldiers who would no doubt shoot her on sight should she be recognized. Tomorrow he would gamble. Tonight, he would forget all of that and sleep. If he was lucky, he'd forget what he'd seen.

A soft knock on his door and he looked up to see Hawkeye still in her uniform. She stood there for a moment and he only met her soulful eyes. She sighed.

"She'll be fine, sir," Hawkeye's voice said softly.

He sighed, "Is it that obvious?"

"Yes. But only because I know that look."

"What look?" he asked defensively. He'd worked on this mask, on the facade of nonchalance that irked his subordinates. He'd gotten so blank he'd forgotten how easy it was to just turn on, like it was a look he never left the house without.

"Its the same look when you worry about us, sir."

He scoffed, "Don't know what you're talking about."

She walked across the room and turned her eyes to the winter white on the other side of the window. Her profile made him curious. It looked like her smirk was set in place and he couldn't hardly ever remember her keeping it on for so long. Usually, it was here and gone like lightening. Now, it seemed rooted to her smooth complexion. He walked up next to her, hoping to find some solace in the beauty in front of him.

He saw Amelie.

His heart jumped into his throat and he leaned forward, childishly pressing his hands against the window to see his baby sister better as the vision began to vanish. Her clothes were haggard and bloody, shreds of cloth and nothing more. She'd been standing barefoot in the snow. Hair unkempt. Eyes half-dead. He was sure he'd seen fresh blood trailing from her chest.

He couldn't say anything, his voice was too strained from the shock of seeing her. He swallowed away the fear and the pounding in his chest.

"Sir?" Hawkeye asked. Her smirk had been replaced quickly with a tight brow. Her hand was on his shoulder.

He looked at her, blank, "I thought...I thought I saw her."

Her eyebrows knit closer together and she looked out the window only to bring that scrutinizing gaze back on him, "Are you feeling all right, sir?"

His body stiffened and he sank back onto the bed, stationing his forearms on his thighs and looking down towards the floor, "Fine."

He knew he'd lied. So did she. But saying nothing, she only returned her mind to the scenery outside.

He hated it when he couldn't explain himself to her. He knew she had flashbacks, too. Only it seemed hers where of people she'd never even seen the faces of. Faceless victims of her long-range sniper's aim. He wasn't sure which was worse: knowing each face as it flashed by, or seeing nothing but blanks. Lives snuffed and forgotten. They both suffered that fate. Why did she look so worried then, at his admittance of seeing someone he'd abandoned? It wasn't like it hadn't ever happened before.

"She's not Maes."

His neck cracked, he'd risen his head to look at her so quickly.

"We protect who we can. Some, we lose. Some, walk away. But we were there for them as much as we could be. You haven't buried her, sir. Don't let yourself think otherwise."

It was her solemn eyes, her folded hands on the window sill, even her sweet, monotonous voice that made his throat swell in pain. He had to look away otherwise her lack of emotion would make his overflow.

"It's the right thing to do; letting Jean stay with Amelie tomorrow."

Roy cleared his throat, "How'd you know?"

"My room is right next to hers, sir."

"And why do you think it right?"

"Amelie doubts who I would choose to protect if something went wrong. No matter my orders. If something did happen, I would have to condemn one of you to death. She doesn't want that. I believe she knows the guilt you carry. Were she to die because of my choice, she knows you would lose both of us, sir."

Roy's heart had stopped beating the moment she'd said it. The moment she confirmed that choice being a possibility, he felt his skin go cold, his forehead drip with frozen sweat. Just inhaling, pulling in air, felt impossible.

Cruel as it was to make him face it, she was doing him a favor. Amelie had always known Roy's choice and now, Hawkeye's. Meanwhile it seemed Amelie would choose Roy every time.

* * *

Jean watched his commanding officer march away, an irritated line of a man. Much as he'd expected that reaction, he didn't expect it to be so short-lived. He'd thought he'd be in for a lengthy explanation of the dangers, with a few tacit threats peppered in for good measure. Taking the brief encounter as a boon, he ducked back into the room where Amelie slept on, undisturbed. He stood there, staring. They would have to be up before dawn to prepare for the plan the General had laid. Until then, he could at least appreciate what he'd experienced with her. Sure, he'd been with other women, but this was a league apart from any of those liaisons. He didn't know alchemy as well as the Elric's, and he couldn't claim much knowledge of her unique talent, but he acutely understood now that alchemy wasn't something she did - it was who she was. Her alchemy was never 'activated'. She lived it and the sensations she'd stirred in him were far from a manipulation. That desire and peaceful warmth in his body had been her. Her soul lit a spark in his.

Stepping across the marble floors, he clambered back into the oversized bed next to her. She rustled slightly; he placed his hand protectively on her temple and she smiled wistfully before curling up next to him.

Even that slight touch fueled the afterglow. Her alchemy seeped into him where they touched and when he pulled his hand away the aureate luminescence was clinging to his palm. His hand tingled, awoken like a limb previously denied blood flow. Emotions he couldn't describe made him lean over her and lay a tender kiss to her forehead.

She'd been described as a soulless monster. How wrong that was. She was life.

* * *

Amelie's eyes snapped open. Her brain fired off a million different questions, but the first and foremost was regarding the warm body shadowed behind her. Her body tensed for dangerous moment until she remembered Jean had stayed with her. Knowing he had, and was evidently sound asleep, made her frantic heartbeat slow to a bit more normal a pace. His hand was loosely draped over the dip of her waist. She laid her hand on his; he was warm. He didn't stir.

She didn't know what time it was, but her throat was dry. The constant arid heat from the fireplace had gotten to her. She softly lifted his arm from her waist and gingerly moved from the bed. Still, he slept. Leaning down, she gathered discarded clothes and slipped them back on. Barefoot, she walked from the room towards the kitchen. Her body felt like it were thrumming with a deep vibrato unlike anything she'd ever felt. She could feel echoes of Jean, but it wasn't as though she'd transmuted him. And the echoes weren't the same as those from others who'd she used alchemy on before. It wasn't memories she had. It was fleeting emotions. Soft pockets of thought and sensation. Hardly more than the feeling of being wrapped in a warm blanket. Although even that was more comforting than anything.

Wandering into the kitchen, she looked to see her brother hunched over the island. He was still only in his white cotton shirt, his starched blue pants unceremoniously slack and wrinkled. His hand was tousled through his thick black hair with his elbow on the polished stone and his eyes were on something she couldn't see. Shadows under his eyes and the way his shoulders slumped forward gave away his exhaustion.

"Can't sleep?" she asked softly.

He pulled his head from his hand and looked at her, "No," he admitted after a pause, "Not having alchemy is unsettling."

She stared at him, "I'm going to make it right. I promise."

He said nothing. His gaze was set on the polished stone in front of him.

"I was going to make some tea. Care for some?" she moved towards the range.

"That would be nice."

Silently, she filled a kettle with water and leaves and pulled two cups from the upper cabinet. She could feel his eyes on her and she could only meet his gaze with a gentle smile. The moonlight was dimmer; clouds had moved in again and filtered it before the sun rose.

"I don't want you to blame yourself," he said sullenly.

She leaned against the countertop, arms crossed, "For what?"

"For what happened to me. You coming wouldn't have made a difference."

"You don't know that."

"They ambushed me; shot me in the dark before I even had the chance to defend myself. You being there…they may have shot you instead."

"If it meant you were spared—"

"Why do you do that?" he cut her off sternly, but quietly. She snapped her mouth shut, unsure of his outburst. He sighed and looked down to the table, "Why do you think my life is worth so much more than your own?"

Her mouth formed the first shapes of an answer just before the gurgle of the kettle set off the whistle in the spout; she turned off the flames and poured the water through the strainer into the porcelain. The transparent green liquid splashed and a few droplets made their way to the counter top. Why? She had no answer. Perhaps the feeling that she'd taken lives meant she never thought hers was worth saving. Did he have that same feeling of worthlessness? His life was his, and he was trying to atone for the red on his hands. She'd run from hers. Did that make him better?

Putting the kettle back, she put the strainer aside and brought the tea to the island. Roy held his cup between his palms, cradling it. She could see his mind working. Those eyes were staring pensively into the cup and beyond the bottom of it, trying to run thoughts to completion behind them.

"If you think any louder you'll wake everyone else," she jest quietly.

He looked at her and smile deprecatingly, "Suppose that would be rude."

She shrugged, "Well, I'm here if you want to talk."

He continued to look at her, study her, see her. She didn't feel threatened, but it was a strange look she found on her brother's face. Did he know? About Jean? Even if he did, did it matter? Had it been impulsive? Yes. But it was comfort and, even so transitory as it was, she needed it.

"You were right," he came to some conclusion of an internal monologue.

"About what?"

"About tomorrow. Captain Hawkeye should be there at the press conference with me."

Amelie couldn't stop the relieved smile on her face, "When will you just tell her you love her?"

His eyes left hers and looked back beyond his tea cup, "Fraternization is a punishable offense in the military."

"That's not an answer."

"What makes you think I love her?"

"Please. I transmuted your soul; you loved her then. I felt it. I doubt it's faded."

"Even so, there are rules."

She sighed, "She loves you, too, you know."

He sipped at the tepid tea, "I was thinking of sending someone else with you. Do you have a preference?"

She stared at him; typical evasion. Yet, he was trying to dig and find out something. She could tell in the way he asked. Unbidden, her eyebrows raised a bit in amusement and he caught the look. He put his tea cup down and sighed.

"What?"

"You've just never asked me for my opinion before."

His jaw clenched. She could see him swallow back pain before he spoke, "You're not a child. And I have no right to make decisions for you. You're the one helping me."

"Whomever you think, then."

"I think Lieutenant Havoc would be the best to stay with you during the press conference."

She met his gaze and remained calm, no emotion on her face, "He doesn't treat me like a criminal. I trust him."

His shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh. His breath cast ripples across the top of the tea. The very first gleams of golden sunrise lit the clouds from behind. Everything in the kitchen was cast in a pastel purple light, the darkness still clinging to the shadows. Another sip he took without a word.

"He's a good man. I trust him with my life."

Her heart was beating ever so slightly faster; had he heard something to give them away? Or was he just stating a fact, benign and meaningless? Even when they were children, he had always been hard to read. Now it seemed no different.

"Good morning," another voice chimed in.

Amelie and Roy both turned to see Havoc, fully dressed in civilian clothes and ready for assignment. He looked between the two of them, but his eyes favored her brother more. She could feel a whisper of concern, of anxiety. Was he waiting to say something?

"Lieutenant. We were just talking about you," Roy allowed, "I was just telling Amelie that you will be stationed with her today during the press conference."

Hearing her brother's voice but eyes fixated on Jean, she watched him relax and regain his normal posture. His confidence stirred in her. His shoulders lowered and he ran his fingers through his hair "Of course, sir."

"The Captain and I will go about our day; I want you in place as soon as possible. Your objective is to get Amelie in, get her out, and avoid confrontation. Is that clear? Just make sure she can perform her alchemy undisturbed."

"Yes, sir."

Her brother nodded, drank the last sip of his tea and left the kitchen.

Amelie watched him walk slowly away. Unsure if her brother was the wiser for their tryst or not, she could only smile and sip at her own cooling tea. If he did know, he wasn't intervening. If he didn't know, perhaps it was best to let it be and not impose that knowledge on him. He had enough to go through today.

* * *

The fourth ammunition can lay full and hefty on the table. She and her team had been hunched over the assembly line setup for an hour, meticulously placing rounds into the belt that would feed them through the gun. Her hands shook from exhaustion. They hadn't the means to mechanically load the belts, so it had to be done by hand. That, and Roderick's outburst still rang fresh in her mind.

Soon, the early morning traffic would make movement harder, make concealing the cans difficult. They were bulky, obvious, and heavier than she thought they'd be. The jeeps were equipped to mount the guns, but they were useless without the death-on-a-roll cans.

"You ok?" one of the younger men asked. Naomi recognized his striking red eyes. He was Ishbalan and relatively new to the Republic; his fervor was endearing and he'd begged to be on the front lines for the day's assault.

She offered a tired smile, "I haven't had a decent chunk of sleep since the day before last," she admitted.

"We can finish up these last few cans if you want to go rest."

A few murmured agreements came from others at the table. She considered it. She would be leading the afternoon's assault. She had to be sharp to avoid losing anyone - they'd already lost too many in a battle Roderick wouldn't elaborate on. Losing more at this juncture wouldn't just be demoralizing, it would ensure their eventual defeat.

"A suppose a little rest will be good," she allowed.

The younger man elbowed her away from the table with a smile. Taking her leave, her feet followed the path to her room. She didn't even need to look anymore. Sounds, smells, even the slight change in pressure made her aware of where she was.

Stepping into her little slice of sanctuary, she didn't bother undressing. She just flopped down on the cot. The smoky pillow under her head was cool and refreshing. Her body uncoiled. Her mind stopped replaying the events of the prior evening in it. No doubt she was overreacting to Roderick's temper. He'd gotten them this far. Heavy lids stifled her view of her room.

The knock on her door was encroaching. Leaden, her limbs refused to move for a moment. The knock returned and she groaned while pushing herself to her feet. So much for rest.

"I'm coming," she hissed, yanking the door open when the knock returned for a third time.

Roderick stood in front of her. Her body immediately jolted awake, adrenaline shocking her limbs into prickling awareness.

"I saw you leave the prep table. Thought I'd come check on you," he allowed.

She offered a half-cocked smile, "Just tired. Was going to rest until we moved out."

Those eyes surveyed her; with his hands behind his back, he looked nothing like the temperamental man he'd been last night, "Apologies. I just wanted to make sure you were feeling well. I'll let you get your rest, then."

He started to walk off. She stepped out into the hallway and called after him softly. Hands still resting at the small of his back, he turned to face her.

"Did you need me for something?" she asked.

He smiled, "No; get some rest," and walked off.

Blinking a few times, brow furrowed while he meandered away, she retreated back to her room. Curling up on the cot once more, sleep eluded her.

* * *

Amelie swallowed back her uncertainty and knocked gently at her brother's door. Her palms were dry, but her heartbeat was hammering against her ribs and eardrums. His low voice bid her enter and she pushed the door open. He was just putting on his starched blue uniform jacket. His hair was still slightly damp from a shower. He looked at her, pushing buttons through their holes from memory.

"Lieutenant Havoc and I are heading out. He says it's better to get into the city before the morning rush."

"Captain Hawkeye and I are doing the same."

A half-hearted, sad little smile tugged at one side of her lips, "I would say we could carpool, but…wouldn't do for you to be seen with a fugitive."

Black eyes cut off the gaze and returned to the floor. She didn't know what she expected. Some kind of revelation? He couldn't even look at her. Last night, he'd hugged her and apologized. Now, that uniform carved canyons between them. A soldier could never be a brother.

"Well, see you later, then," she abruptly turned to leave. She could feel her throat sting at the lack of reaction. Her eyes watered. Jaw tensed.

"Amelie," he called after her, voice too low to be much more than a whisper. She bit her lips and faced him. He'd squared off with her, the top button of his jacket still not done, "When this is over, you won't be a fugitive anymore."

Hope. Subtle, deafening hope. She swallowed back the sting of it. Hoping was almost worse than being ignored.

He sighed, "You don't believe me."

She bit her lips, containing the swell of fear that was roaring inside, "I want to."

"Stay out of sight. Don't do anything rash."

A nod and she couldn't help but smile, "Always pragmatic."

He shrugged, "Hazard of the job."

"Same to you. Don't do anything stupid."

"Deal."

"I'll see you after, then."

"After," he echoed.

She walked out and found her way down the grand staircase. Jean was waiting for her. Deceptively civilian, his heavy coat hid sidearms and one sawed-off shotgun with enough ammunition for a small army. Pulling her own hood over her head and covering her face in shadow, she followed him out to the car he'd already warmed up.

* * *

Fingers upon his temple, Roy looked past the beautiful winter morning. White-washed alleys and cheery smiles went unnoticed. His mind was filled with darker thoughts. Useless. That's what he was now, entirely and utterly so. Unable to assist in his own plans save to fill the position of bait. Everything now relied on his sister. A fight that should've been his alone was now her inheritance.

"Shall I discuss this plan with the Fuehrer when I report the outcome of last night?" Hawkeye asked pragmatically, yanking him from his own prison, "Should Roderick fall for the trap, having additional forces at our disposal might be useful."

Roy straightened and crossed his arms over his chest, "I don't want more soldiers getting involved. Roderick's unpredictable. Not to mention, Amelie will be in the midst of it. I can't fight two battles at once."

"I doubt she needs you to fight hers, sir."

Eyebrow raised at the blatant dismissal, Roy sighed, "She's not exactly predictable, either. I don't want our own to come under fire if she panics."

"She's more controlled than you give her credit for. I don't believe it will come to that."

"You sound like Maes," he scoffed.

"Do you think the Brigadier General was wrong?"

"No. No, I don't. He was never wrong about her. If only I'd listened sooner."

"Sir?" she asked, obviously not understanding the full beast of guilt that was eating at him.

"All those years she spent as a weapon, forced to do alchemy...When the headlines came out, Maes was the first to defend her; he said she'd have never killed anyone unless it was in self-defense. He believed in her more than I did."

"You have the chance to believe in her now."

He studied her profile while she continued to drive. Such beautiful, perfect features. He admitted silently that he believed Amelie now more than ever. She'd been so spot on with so much. Feelings, thoughts… But he averted his gaze when Hawkeye glanced at him. Back to the white city beyond the window. Back to ignoring the heat his feelings gave him against the cold.

The car came to a slow stop when she pulled into his parking space. Stepping out into the cold, he shrugged his coat up closer to his cheeks. His steady, long exhale condensed before disappearing. The courtyard looked like a fairytale. Ice shimmered from the barren trees. The fountain had frozen over. The snow, pristine. His black duster whipped about in the wind. Coming up beside him, Hawkeye offered a little smile. Her cheeks and nose were tinged rosy pink from the cold nipping at them. It set off her chocolate eyes.

Making his way through the stone halls and navigating to his office, he passed no one. It was earlier than normal. He'd hoped to beat the morning commute. Fewer persons who could potentially see through his charade. Running lines and a fledgling script through his head all night, he still wasn't sure of what he could possibly say that would overcome Roderick's gloating. No matter what platitudes he gave, the press would only want to see one thing: evidence of his fate.

* * *

With hands on the steering wheel, knuckles white, Jean cleared his throat for the third or fourth time in as many minutes. He felt odd. His palms were sweaty and his heart beat double-time against his ribs. Still, like a split personality, he could feel a distant, timid calm. It wasn't him. He didn't know where the placidity was coming from. But every time he looked at Amelie in the seat next to him, he felt butterflies in his stomach whirl about aimlessly. She'd closed her eyes on the ride over and he hadn't the heart to wake her up even though he'd stopped the car to get breakfast. He wanted her to enjoy something. Even just a meal with him. Something more to show that not all soldiers were mindless or heartless.

With a shaky hand, he placed his fingers on her shoulder. She stirred and offered a sleepy smile his way, "Are we there?" she murmured.

He nodded, "Yeah, but I thought you might want breakfast first. We're going to be holed up for a while. I didn't want to starve you."

She looked out the window to see a little deli. The golden lights within were a beautiful contrast to the pastel dawn that played on the snow. Opening his door, he came around the car and opened hers. She pulled her hood up and followed him inside. Her body stayed close to his; he swore he could feel anxiety, fear. Now in a familiar surrounding, he felt more confident but still that trepidation ate away at it.

He ordered for both of them at her request and smiled to see her eyes light up at the warm, steaming knish laid on a plate. The cheese and egg overhung the edges and the sweet-cured ham rested on top. As with the stir-fry, she wasn't shy. The bite she took broke the tepid yolk and she was quick to catch the drip on her chin with a napkin. She laughed and he couldn't stop smiling at her. She spoke of her younger years and homemade meals at Madame Christmas' foster home. She talked about her time on the run in Aerugo. She'd learned to dance there, and to ride cycles, too. She hinted that she was a bit of a daredevil on the bikes. He admitted he was fond of them, too. In all their conversation, he felt at peace. Her smile was infectious. And even when the meal was done, her demeanor remained relaxed.

It wasn't until they pulled up to the partial edifice that he felt the cold slap of nerves flutter in his heart. He wasn't nervous, but still he felt it. Amelie looked up at the burgeoning building.

"What is this?" she asked.

"New construction. After all the chaos last year, the military had some serious rebuilding to do. The construction crews all went home on account of the snow. Best place to keep an eye on the General."

She nodded while her eyes remained fixated on the high-rise. Havoc led the way and was grateful that at least the windows were in place. The interior was chilly, but warmer than the winter air outside. Unpacking his guns and double checking each to ensure the ammunition was loaded, he hunkered down against the wall. They'd wasted plenty of time at the deli. The streets below were bustling with mid-morning crowds.

"How will we know when Roderick broadcasts?"

"We'll just wait until the General shows up on the steps."

"I wish he'd planned to do it in the courtyard," she said and, he admitted internally, it was safer. Behind the walls of the compound, there was less chance of an attack.

"Front steps are bolder. More likely to rile Roderick up if he's cocky."

Ameilie gave a half-hearted chuckle, "He's always cocky. But, usually with good reason."

"And you?"

She swallowed hard and he felt a pang of guilt. Guilt and nausea. Again, not his. Hers? Were these feelings hers?

"Why do you feel guilty?" he blurted out.

She looked at him. Surprise. Raised eyebrows and slightly parted lips. She blinked a few times and her eyes narrowed on his, "Can you feel me?" her voice was breathless, barely more than a whisper.

He nodded, "I think so. I've been feeling...things...all morning. Not mine. Different than mine. Why? Can you feel me, too?"

"I can. I've never felt...If I transmute someone, I get everything up to that point, but never more past the transmutation. I mean, I didn't think I'd actually...transmuted you," her eyes were looking inward, trying to think. He could feel the confusion, the tiny voice of fear. She was already shutting down, afraid of emotions and connections. Her body became stiff. Her shoulders squared off.

"You said you'd never been with anyone else, right?" he asked pointedly and she nodded, her arms crossed over her chest. Her feelings were subsiding, going cold and his jaw clenched in frustration, "So, I don't know exactly what you think about last night, but - "

"Terrified," she cut him off quietly.

He stared at her for a moment, "Of what?"

She wouldn't meet his gaze, "What we did...I've never felt so close to anyone; I hadn't felt safe in years until last night. It was the best night of my life."

"Same. So what does that mean?" he leaned into her, hoping she would smile at him.

She met his gaze, "I don't know. Does it have to mean anything?"

He pulled back and shook his head, "No. It doesn't have to if you don't want it to," he amended.

Her lips were turned up in a little smile, "I didn't mean it that way."

He exhaled and smiled back at her, "Oh, good. I don't know what I'd do if you shut me out."

The tinge of blush on her cheeks only made him smile wider. Looking outside at the winter scene, he couldn't stop the warmth inside. She followed his gaze and they sat for a few moments in beautiful, comfortable silence. The snow had stopped falling and the bright, crisp light of the day had taken over the city. The azure sky was untouched by a single cloud. The military grounds were awake with blue; new recruits training in the snow and seasoned veterans watching from the sidelines.

"You know, the winter formal is in a day. We get this finished, you think you'd want to join me?"

"You mean, like a date?"

"Exactly like a date."

"I very much doubt a fugitive would be welcome."

He shrugged, "Maybe. I figure, if you save the world, they could probably look the other way for at least a night."

She laughed, softly and delicately, "Then I'd love to."

* * *

Roy stared at his paperwork. The stack hadn't gotten thinner. If anything, it was thicker due to the incident reports he'd had to fill out; ensuring his staff were free from blame while also hiding his sister's involvement. Maybe, just maybe, the country would be able to accept her when all this was over. For now, she had to remain hidden.

Putting his pen down mindlessly, his fingers rubbed together and made one little spark. He knew every nuance of the alchemy enshrined on the fabric, but nothing came of it. Without the fuel, the spark died. There was no flame that could steady his resolve. He didn't know what Roderick would attempt after the press conference. He only knew his direct safety was in the hands of others. He was competent with a gun, could fight hand-to-hand, but he was the Flame Alchemist. His defense had always been the air around him. Now, that air was stagnant.

"Can I bring you anything, sir?" Riza stepped into his field of view and he directed his gaze to her.

"I'm fine, thank you Captain. Is everyone in place?" he looked to the clock on the mantle across the way.

She nodded, "Yes, sir. Edward and Alphonse are stationed at the academy should Roderick try anything in the aftermath. Lieutenant-Colonel Armstrong is with the Fuehrer, reporting on the events of last night with discretion. We've received no indication that Lieutenant Havoc has had any difficulty, either, sir."

"We just have to hope I've predicted his moves well enough."

"I hope so, sir."

The radio crackled in the adjoining room. The prattling broadcast cut out. Steepling his hands and inhaling deep, Roy waited. He saw his Captain steady herself; one hand on her sidearm and the other balled into a fist. His jaw clenched tight and he steeled himself for the inevitable.

 _"Ladies and Gentleman of Central, this is the Republic..."_


	11. The Storm

**A/N - if you are interested in reading more about Jean and Amelie's encounter, there is a piece which is rated "M" entitled "Notches". Chapter 5 is entitled "Sun and Moon" and is about their liaison.**

* * *

 **The Storm**

Pushing her way through a small crowd, Naomi set her eyes on Roderick. Nervous energy coursed through her; her brow furrowed and her palms were sweaty. Waiting for him to dismiss another of their soldiers, she stepped closer. His jaw was clenched; he'd no doubt heard the rumor which she had come to confirm.

"Flame is holding a press conference at the steps of Central Command," she intoned.

"I doubt anything he says could dispute my claims."

"Should we mobilize? In case he makes himself an easy target?" she gave a cocked smiled.

His tight jaw slacked and he smiled, "You know me too well. Let's get the jeeps ready. If we can take him out during that press conference, I doubt we'll have very much more resistance," his eyes sparkled with anticipation and he stood a bit straighter.

"What about the white-haired woman?"

"If you see her, kill her. She's powerful, but not a fighter. Taking her out is the best way to ensure Flame is brought down."

"You don't want her cleansed?"

He shook his head, hands folding at the small of his back, "She's too unpredictable. Flame's weakness was his gloves. Hers is not so obvious."

"It's him. She's come to his rescue twice now. Whatever their relationship, they've shown to be each other's weakness, don't you think?"

A little nod and a wider smile, "Still, taking her out will make sure Flame doesn't heal from his wounds this time. Every gun not aimed at Flame should be aimed at her."

"Done," she smirked and started to walk away. Her name, softly spoken from his lips, made her hesitate. She turned to face him again. He wasn't looking at her, but at his notebook.

"Who do you think she is to him?" he murmured.

She knew the actions. Knew the ramifications of how the white-haired woman had come to Flame's aid. She wasn't a friend. Nor a lover. What she was, though, Naomi didn't wish to vocalize. Her own family had been untouched throughout all of Roderick's plan. She hated to think a sign of weakness would be their undoing. As much as she disagreed with her brother, she couldn't give him up to Roderick. He'd been untouched. She would keep it that way.

"I'm not sure," she averted her eyes a bit.

Roderick chuckled, "Of course you are. You have that same devotion, Naomi."

Her heart felt leaden and sunken. A shiver brushed over her skin and she didn't take her eyes off Roderick. He sauntered closer, hands still at the small of his back, and she stood tall when he was shoulder to shoulder with her. She didn't dare look him in the eye again, only faced forward while the drum of her heart beat loud in her ears.

"You are a loyal soldier. Your devotion to me is...endearing. When we have won, your devotion will not go unrewarded."

The stiff line of her back relaxed and she allowed herself to smile, "Thank you."

He returned the smile and placed a cold hand on her shoulder. Taking her graces, she walked briskly off towards the loading docks where the cans of ammunition were almost finished being loaded onto the jeeps. She tacked her mask in place, hiding the bottom half of her face. Pulling a thick winter coat on and yanking the hood up meant she looked just like any other passerby in this weather. Even for the layers, she was cold. The fear that Roderick had found out about her brother still rang fresh in her mind. She knew the devotion the white-haired woman had because she fought against it every day. Hoping that her brother wasn't in a targeted building. Fearful that he would be the next civilian caught in the crossfire.

Seated next to others with shrouded features, she felt the lurch of the weapon-laden jeep as they took off for Central Command.

* * *

Roy stepped out into the bright sun. He'd slicked his hair back and donned his visor cap to speak; his confidence would strengthen the facade of his abilities. Not a moment after the broadcast had been over did he receive a phone call from the Fuehrer. He knew, from that moment on, the charade had to be perfect. If Roderick thought for a moment that his alchemy was gone, the man wouldn't show his hand. He was making himself the bait. Letting his life dangle on the hook while his sister held the reel. Pausing, still behind the stone walls surrounding the plaza, he looked to the half-finished tower across the way. He couldn't see his sister. Couldn't tell her that she was trusted.

Standing next to him, Riza placed her third handgun in a holster on the small of her back, under the thick jacket. Her chocolate eyes scanned the horizon and only when she'd given him a nod, did he continue walking forward while she stayed one stride behind.

Even with the bright sun reflecting off snow, he was blinded by the cameras that went off when he took his place behind the podium on the steps of Central Command. There was a whirr of questions, each melting into the next and becoming nothing more than white noise. Subconsciously rubbing his thumb and middle finger together, he waited until the crowd of reporters had gone silent. Each was holding a wired microphone out towards him, their boxes of receivers on their hips or backs.

"An hour ago, the terrorist organization known as the Republic made a broadcast which claimed to have taken my alchemy. Their lies are part of an elaborate plot to undermine our great military, and to distract the people from the true danger. Our team did make a foray into their ranks in the hopes of uncovering their final goals late yesterday evening and, while a shoot out did occur, I and my team have remained unharmed. The man leading this operation, Roderick, has claimed to have God's blessings which allow him to render alchemists powerless. However, my team discovered last night that Roderick is a scam; he is an alchemist using an advanced form of foreign alchemy to feign power. His ultimate goal is not equality, but a deadly take-over of this country. He will kill any and all citizens who deny his rule. He is not an enemy of alchemists. He is an enemy to the whole country. My team believes that he is trying to activate a dangerous transmutation circle which would result in the deaths of everyone within the city limits, and possibly further. Our citizens are asked, if they spot any suspicious activity, to report it immediately to the nearest Military Police station. For now, our forces will continue to search for him and his associates. At this time, I will take questions."

The flurry of words and eager press pushed forward and it was only the stanchions which held them back. He idly pointed to a reporter at the edge of the crowd. The young man stepped towards him and spoke his question to the microphone: "General Mustang - are you saying your alchemy has _not_ been taken from you?" he then angled the device towards the podium.

Exasperated, Roy nodded, "That is correct."

Without hesitation, the same individual continued, "Can you prove that to us?"

Staring into the eager faces, the silver balls of the microphones, he sighed, "If you wish."

Raising his gloved hand, he held eye contact with the ardent man.

 _SNAP_

Fire surged forward over the heads of the assembled crowd. It was blue at the core, orange and yellow spanning outwards, hotter than the flames he usually created. It soared like an eagle across the street. Dazzling and convincing. It lingered, alive for moments, before retreating backwards and disappearing. The stunned silence and gaping mouths gave way to an overflowing chatter for a moment while the reporters described the scene to the listeners at home. With his most convincing look of utter boredom, Roy sighed again, "Any other questions?"

"General! You say Roderick is an alchemist: what kind of transmutation is he planning?"

"If his circle is activated, it will kill everyone within it by causing their blood to boil while their skin freezes. The results are disturbing. We have reason to believe he has already tried these transmutation circles on his own men rather than allow them to be captured by the military. It also seems he has attempted to use this alchemy on our own soldiers dating back to 1905. He is experienced and remorseless."

"How can our citizens help?"

"Anyone who has knowledge of his schemes and comes forward will be granted clemency. Should any of our citizens see suspicious activity, they are to report it immediately to - "

A gunshot whipped through the air and Roy found himself forced to the steps by his Captain. The reporters scattered for cover and the singular gunshot echoed among the granite and marble. Crouched next to Hawkeye behind the wooden podium, he waited. There was no damage to the stone steps. No damage to the podium. His heart started to beat faster. He could hear engines revving and screams as crowds fled. Sharing a knowing look with his Captain, they both stood. She shot at the oncoming enemy. He snapped.

No flames.

Ducking down behind the podium and grabbing Hawkeye, he pulled her along with him towards the alcove in the wall corner. He couldn't afford time to see if Amelie and Havoc were still alive. But he couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his gut that the shot hadn't been meant for him at all, and the lack of following shots meant the first had found its mark.

* * *

Looking at the assembled reporters, Jean turned his attention to Amelie. Those coal eyes were trained on her brother. They were both standing, waiting for his movement. They hadn't heard the radio broadcast, but the palpable surge of energy below them had only gotten thicker as the crowd gathered for the press conference. Roy was wearing his formal cap, the visor hiding his eyes. Jean smiled to himself at the man's tactical mind. Eyes hidden, he couldn't give away their position even if he wanted to. The stirring of anxious trepidation and he placed his hand on Amelie's shoulder. She shadowed her hand over his.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"You're not alone in this anymore."

Her eyes were fixated on the scene below them, "I believe you. I never thought..."

"What?"

"I never thought this would be how I spent the day after," she offered a mirthful little smile.

He mirrored it, "Not a bad way to, though."

"You have more experience in that than I do. I suppose one of us should be good at it," the bit of blush on her cheeks made him step closer and he took her hand.

"I never said I was good at it. Why?"

She shrugged, "Well, I'd always heard...that the first time...hurt."

He shook his head, "Only if he's not gentle."

"I thank you for that, then."

Feeling a sudden, strong resolve, his gaze left the crowds below to look at her, "I'm not ever going to let you get hurt. Not on my watch."

She looked up at him, a warm smile making her squint ever so slightly. Together, they both turned their attention back to the General. Below, Mustang's shoulders rose and fell. His hand raised. Even so far away, Jean could hear that snap in his mind. Like clockwork, Amelie's attention diverted wholly on her brother. The living flames expanded like feathers of cobalt and copper, burning on oxygen gathered by her mind, before pulling back to the supposed creator. Jean smiled. While the flames were somehow less threatening at her beck and call, he knew that they were more deadly and burned hotter.

"Mission accomplished," he relaxed his tense shoulders.

"Hopefully Roderick will take the bait."

"He will," Jean moved off to the side, kneeling at the small duffle bag of guns he'd brought in the event things went south. As it was, the press conference was void of excitement and their part in it had come to an end. His orders were clear: get Amelie in, let her do her alchemy, and get her out.

"I still don't know how I can fix it," Amelie sighed, staring out the window at her brother.

"You're a genius. You'll figure - " he diverted his eyes to her and saw a small red dot on her back between her shoulders.

He lunged and tackled her to the dusty floor. His ears rang with the whine of a sharp crack. The stone wall had a visible cleft and they both could see a living cloud of dust appear at the chipped window frame. Holding her down, she tried to crawl back towards the window to see her brother.

"Stay down!"

"But Roy..."

"He's got the Captain to look after him; come on, we need to get out of here!" he stayed prone on the floorboards and tried to find an easy way out that wouldn't require putting themselves in the line of a sniper again, "Any ideas?" he asked.

"I can transmute us."

He stared at her for a moment. The sound of heavy vehicles rumbling and roaring towards them pushed away his nagging uncertainty. He nodded, "Then get us down there. We need to get back to the car and get them."

She grabbed his hand and his world went black.

* * *

More gunshots ricocheted off the stone walls. The angle kept him and his Captain safe, but also meant reinforcements weren't readily able to come to their aid without putting themselves in the line of fire. The first shot had been the only for a few minutes. Now, it was joined by several small caliber guns. Taking a momentary reprieve, he peered out around the sharp corner of the wall. A shot went shallow, clipping the stone just shy of his face. He jerked back and sighed, looking to Hawkeye.

"They're just trying to keep us pinned here," he reasoned.

"Which means they have reinforcements coming," she concluded, "Sir, we can't assume that Lieutenant Havoc and Amelie are - " she cut herself off when a sudden, heavy barrage of bullets tore into the stonework; shards flew in all directions and Roy wrapped himself around her to shield her from the stone. This gun was bigger, stronger.

Roy could barely make out the whir of another engine and the groan of ground as a huge transmutation sprang up to provide cover. A civilian car came to a screeching halt behind the new barrier and Roy unfurled himself from his Captain to see Havoc and Amelie in the car. Amelie had thrown open the two passenger doors. Without needing the instruction, he and Hawkeye dove into the car. He could feel Amelie pull on him and reach over to close the doors.

"Go!" he yelled over the sibilant whir of bullets.

Havoc slammed his foot down on the pedal and Roy fell backwards into the rear seat next to his sister. He was able to see that she was free from blood, but was covered in dust just like him. Whomever had taken that first shot had been aiming at her after all.

"Where to?" Havoc yelled over his shoulder; both of his hands had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

"Get us out of town. Take the fight away from the civilians."

Looking forward, Roy could see a clear path. If they could get out into the open, they could turn the tables. Heart pounding in his ears, he hadn't thought the fight would be this sudden. The cold thought that Roderick had been planning to assassinate him at the press conference crept into his mind. No other explanation told of how he'd gotten terrorists in place so soon. The only reason that first shot hadn't been for him, was because the shooter had been looking for Amelie.

"Brother?" Amelie tugged on his shoulder lapel, "What is that?"

He followed her gaze. She was on her knees on the back seat, staring out the rear window. A dark, wide vehicle was closing in and he could see the barrels of what appeared to be some kind of gatling gun mounted on the roof. The gunner was standing up through a hole in the top, and Roy could barely make out the new canister of ammunition being loaded through the bouncing and kicked-up snow.

"Shit! Havoc, turn! Get down!" he yelled, pulling Amelie into the footwell of the backseat.

The fast-paced thunderclaps of the automatic gun shattered the glass and dotted the rear of the car as Havoc took a hard left. The back end spun and yet he managed to keep the civilian car moving forward through the alley. The wide stance jeep tried to make the turn but was slowed by parked cars that Havoc had been able to avoid. Their engine sputtered. Roy could smell fuel in the chassis. The car slowed and Havoc cursed.

Amelie looked to the Lieutenant, "Turn us hard - I can make the car a barrier!"

Havoc spun the steering wheel as far as he could, the car careening sideways in the street. They all lurched towards the far side. "Get out!" Amelie pushed him towards the door. He threw himself out, heard Hawkeye and Havoc hunker down next to him, and found that Amelie had put both her hands on the side of the car from the outside; alchemy fluttered through it and the oncoming thunder of bullets didn't pierce it.

Roy cursed as another bullet became a near-hit, ricocheting off the battered car and sailing past to lodge into brickwork. Amelie was tucked up between him and Havoc, and Hawkeye was at his other side trying to defend their tenuous position. A shootout in the midst of Central wasn't in any way ideal, and Roy cursed his lack of alchemy. While he could snap and his sister would control the burst of flame, it wasn't enough to overwhelm the attackers and doing so meant she'd have to stop fortifying their only defense.

Alchemy constantly charged through the vehicle while the barrage of bullets continued, "When will they run out?!" Amelie shrieked; her alchemy was changing the composition, strengthening and rebuilding the framework of the dented vehicle.

"They've been firing non-stop - they have to run out soon," Hawkeye asserted but her eyes didn't convey the same confidence her voice did.

"Even I can't keep this up forever," Amelie admitted, yelping when a bullet pinged the inside of the door close to her face and left a bump in the metal.

"Reinforcements are coming," Hawkeye countered, her own firearm showing an empty core.

"This won't work long enough for them to get here," Havoc crouched down low again when his pistol slide remained open at the end of his supply.

"I can get Roy out of here," Amelie spoke up over the continuous thunder.

Roy shook his head, "Not unless we all can get out of here."

Hawkeye's glare was unmistakable, "Sir, you need to go. Amelie, can you keep him safe?"

His sister nodded fervently and with confident eyes while Roy fumed at being ignored, "If she stops reinforcing the car you two won't have any cover left!" he argued.

"They're not after us; get out of here," Jean pulled a revolver from his back holster.

Amelie offered one hand and Roy knew the moment he took it, he would be forced to abandon his soldiers and she would stop her alchemy. Jaw clenched tight, he turned his eyes on his Captain.

"I'll send word where to regroup."

She nodded and slid another magazine into her pistol before opening fire again. Placing his palm flat against his sister's, he lost sight of everything and his world went black. He could no longer discern up from down, his equilibrium swirled in his ears and made his stomach an angry maelstrom. The blackness was almost tangible and clawed at him. The only constant was his sister's cool skin against his. Finally, Roy's feet found solid ground and he instantly collapsed to all fours and lost his grip on his sister. The sensation of cold water against his palms and his knees took away the heat in his gut and slowly calmed his tumultuous stomach. Opening his eyes, he could make out the storm drain around him and his sister's tiny boots in his field of vision. For all the nausea he was swallowing back, she seemed perfectly fine.

"What was that?" he choked out.

"I transmuted us through the ground. Are you ok? Or is this going to be like the county fair?" she knelt down next to him with a soft smile.

Roy rolled his eyes and clumsily stood hunched and leaning against the rounded wall while she braced him. While he had never admitted to anyone that he was easily nauseated by movement, his sister was quick to remind him of the one and only time he'd lost his lunch from a roller coaster ride they'd shared when she was finally tall enough to ride it.

He looked up to see the filtered light of the drain grate and the distant sound of unmistakable gunfire had subsided. Amelie started walking away and he followed. Their footsteps were the only sound as they splashed and broke the thin layers of ice which had accumulated. She led them to a vertical set of rungs and started to climb. Pushing a grate out of the way, she confidently strolled back up to the street level. The small building next to them wasn't much more than a wooden hovel. Placing her hand flat against a padlock on the door, it fell to the ground open and she pushed her way in without resistance. A motorcycle was leaned against the far wall. Roy watched with impressed amusement while she touched it and brought it to life.

"How did you know this was here?"

"Hop on," she offered him a pair of riding goggles and he stared at them skeptically. She proffered her hand again and he grabbed them reluctantly.

"Can you even drive this thing?"

Letting her goggles snap gently into place with a smile, she looked to him expectantly again and gestured for him to hop on behind her. With a deep inhale, Roy pulled the goggles down over his eyes and didn't miss the smug look his sister cast him. He trod to the bike and straddled it, putting his hands around her waist. As he was about to comment that the wide door was still down, she revved the engine and disassembled the wooden barrier before throwing them both forward into gear. Roy couldn't help but hold on tighter when she took the curve fast, getting them onto the back street. She was perfectly at ease guiding the thundering machine and controlling it like it was a part of her.

"I take it you've driven these things before?" he shouted into her ear over the wind.

"I race them in Aerugo," she admitted proudly.

"You what!?" he raised his voice and her only response was to gun the engine and speed up, effectively cutting off his question amid the roar.

* * *

Pacing like a caged animal waiting to be fed, the food tantalizingly near but still undoubtedly out-of-reach, Roderick waited. Naomi had been wise to plan a preemptive strike during the press conference. Her brilliant mind was a boon to their cause. He'd sent her and others out with the plan to end Mustang's life. Avenging his family and destroying the figurehead of the State Alchemist program, all done with one simple act. Having heard Flame's broadcast, his sermon of false hope, and the reporting done by the press gathered, Roderick could only assume that his transmutation had worked, but that the white-haired woman had been stationed to undermine his actions. The slight possibility that his alchemy had failed wasn't as devastating a thought as the one in which that woman was so powerful as to accomplish the ruse.

A swift, panicked knock on his door and he halted his pacing to bark out entry.

A young recruit, blood stained, stood before him. Roderick eyed him up and down for a moment. The teenager had blood on his ragged clothes, but looked to be uninjured himself. His brown eyes were wide and dilated. Breath came in hurried repetition.

"So?" Roderick asked, placing his hands behind his back in an attempt to calm the boy down.

"We had them on the run. They were in a civilian car. We shot at it, but it looked like it was repairing itself, sir. We kept firing. They managed to hit a few of our own while we had to reload."

"And Flame?"

"He vanished. We retreated when more dogs showed up, but he wasn't anywhere to be found."

"Impossible. He must have eluded you during the chase," Roderick looked at an irregularity on the floor with his frustrated eyes rather than the teenager.

"I was driving. He never got out of the car. Never left the cover of it. He was just gone."

Brow furrowed, Roderick eyed the young man again, "What's your name, son?"

"Odane," he said, sweat running down his ebony skin.

"Where's Naomi? Why isn't she reporting to me?"

He swallowed hard, "She went down, sir. We lost sight of her."

"We need to find her."

"A few of us looked for her. She fell from the plaza clock and we couldn't find her body."

Shoulders rising and falling, his breath passing through his nose loudly, he fumed, "We can only hope she made it to the tunnels. As soon as we get a final count of casualties, I was a team to spread out to find her. If she's injured, we need to help her get back."

"I'll take care of it," he answered quickly, still sweating despite the frigid chill.

"Thank you, Odane. I appreciate you coming to me," Roderick allowed, turning back to his desk and ending the conversation. He absently heard the door open and close while he opened his journal. Thumbing through worn pages, he once again turned to the pictures of strangers he should remember. The next page held the grim details of those memories that had set him on this path. Charred bodies on an ashen floor. Dying flames clinging to the last remnants of walls. The roof had partially caved in over the kitchen and fire had consumed a table his grandfather had carved. His wife was prone on the floor, their children nearby. They didn't look like bodies anymore. Didn't look human.

Setting his journal aside, he wished he could feel the emotions he should've carried. As it was, his family felt like nothing more than strangers. He only hoped that, when Flame was killed, he would finally regain the love he'd grieved for. Then his family would be avenged and his memories mended.

* * *

Jean Havoc threw his dirtied, damp jacket forcefully against the couch and looked to Fuery. The younger man was tinkering with the radio and trying to find them any news on the whereabouts of the General and, more importantly, Amelie. Mustang said he'd send word but he'd been mum on how. Kain was searching radio channels. Hawkeye was looking through old correspondences in a little box for answers. Breda had hit the streets to see if Madame Christmas knew anything but had returned empty-handed. The Elric brothers had stayed with the Fuehrer at Hawkeye's request should anything more come of the assault. All Jean knew were the feelings of uncertainty and adrenaline coming from Amelie and his own frustration at being so helpless. Pacing back and forth among the others, he barely even registered when Lieutenant-Colonel Armstrong barreled in. He and Hawkeye were quickly in conversation, giving themselves options and timelines.

"If Amelie is with the General, then I doubt he is in need of much more protection than what she can give," Armstrong bellowed, "Her display at the hospital was impressive, to say the least. Her alchemy is beyond anything we've seen. At least in a human," he added.

Jean sighed, "She's the one I'm worried about," he tried to keep the welling paranoia and tainted objectiveness from his voice.

Breda scoffed, looking through the notes she'd given Hawkeye and Fullmetal the night before, "Girl's a damn monster; she ain't the one - "

"She's not a monster," Jean cut him off aggressively, louder than he meant to be and leaning in towards the heavy-set man. Feeling everyone in the room stare at him, he swallowed back the anger which had quickly piqued at Breda's insult. He straightened and met Riza's wide chocolate eyes. He cleared his throat, "Excuse me."

Pushing the door open to the General's empty antechamber and letting it slam decisively behind him, he pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to feel anything, something, that would confirm that Amelie - and by extension Mustang - was safe. Some emotion beyond panic and determination.

The door unlatched softly and clicked secure just as timidly. He spared one hasty look over his shoulder and saw Riza in his peripheral view. Moving away slowly, he braced his arm on the mantle of the doused fireplace. It was black with soot and ash, and the warm air of the office brushed past him as it reached towards the open flue.

"Are you well, Lieutenant?" she asked formally.

"I'm fine."

"I'm sure Amelie is, too. Even for someone so timid, she can defend herself when she needs to."

"Not when the General is around," he lowered his voice. Riza walked closer, unthreatening and soft; not the strong line of a soldier but the tender poise of a friend. She didn't even say anything and he knew what question she was thinking. He sighed, "When he's around, she only thinks of protecting him. And the General's not exactly clear-headed when it comes to her, either. Apart, they're strong. Together, they won't risk the other."

"Perhaps not. But I believe the General has mended her trust in him. Even if he hasn't, she has one very compelling reason to stay safe."

Jean met her tender eyes and smiled in spite of himself, "Did the General tell you?"

"No. He didn't need to. I'm familiar with the frustration of being helpless. Just remember that no one else can know. Not about the two of you. Not about her and the General. We can't risk putting them, or you, in the crosshairs of the Republic more prominently."

"Understood."

"I'm combing through the letters Amelie sent to Maes through the years. I can't have anyone else read them but you. If you want to help, go through them with me. Maybe we'll find something that tells us where she'd take the General."

* * *

The cottage was quaint and relatively isolated compared to the bustle of Central. Atop a gentle hill, the silver city gleamed in the distance and was turning a warm gold in the light of the oncoming winter sunset. Soft flakes of snow had started to fall. And while the cottage seemed abandoned, Roy felt oddly comfortable when his sister stopped their fast escape almost at the threshold of the abode. She pulled her goggles down and let the engine sputter off and die. Her nostalgic smile put Roy at ease.

"A safe house?" he asked.

She nodded, "I've used it a few times. A friend set it up for me," she dismounted and ignored the visible pang of sadness that came over him when he followed her towards the doorway. He knew exactly which friend had been there when he hadn't.

They crossed over the threshold after Amelie had used alchemy to unlock the bolt of the door. A diminutive oil lamp was on a small telephone stand just inside the foyer. Using a match from the box that sat idly by, she lit the red-based lamp and closed the door behind them. It was musty and cold and dank. Long tatters of fabric covered the sparse furniture and protected it from the dust which had accumulated. A stone hearth on the far side of the tiny living room had firewood already in place. A partly veiled door behind the couch revealed a minuscule bedroom. The kitchen off to the left didn't boast much more than a top-hat stove, a pantry, and a covered window over the sink in the counter. No fridge. Not even a table to eat at. A few cabinets showed sparse utensils and flatware behind glass panes.

For all that it lacked, Roy could see why Amelie had brought him here. She'd always been a claustrophile in times of stress. This humble space certainly fit the bill. He watched her light the hearth to warm the space and provide more light. A few crackles and a brief cloud of dust when she opened the throat damper to the flue and the fire began to make the grey canvas of the room turn into warm reds and browns. She rolled the sheet from the couch and put it aside.

"Do you have any way to check in on my men?"

She paused, "They're safe."

"How do you know?"

Her eyes didn't meet his, "I can feel Jean; he's not in pain, not injured. He's…focused," she struggled for the word before folding the crumpled sheet.

Roy's eyes narrowed, "You transmuted him? But how can you still feel him now?"

Her throat visibly shuddered when she swallowed back the answer she didn't give.

He nodded, understanding all too well what she wouldn't vocalize, even if he didn't understand the alchemy behind it, "I knew things would get complicated, but I didn't expect that as a side effect."

She looked at him, a slight blush on her cheeks. She busied herself with the hearth and didn't say anything for a moment. A twinge of guilt hit him hard; looking around, he couldn't help but remember the letters he'd read, the files he'd forced himself to comb through.

Hands in his pockets, Roy sighed, "Maes set this up, didn't he?" he asked although he knew the answer.

Amelie offered a gentle smile and nodded, seemingly grateful for the change in topic, "He said it would always be here for me."

"You came back to Central every year. And every year, Maes knew. He would always ask around my birthday if I'd heard from you. And every year I gave him the same answer. He never brought me here because of it."

Amelie's brow furrowed a bit, "How do you know I came back every year?"

"While you were in the hospital, I was given the letters you sent to Maes. He kept them all. His aide kept them when he... I read them. And every year, you waited here for a few days to see if I would come. When I didn't, you left, and Maes always made sure to have things ready for the next time. What I don't get is why you kept coming back," he admitted.

Amelie's soft face turned to the fledgling fire and he watched her smooth skin wrinkle a bit as she smiled nostalgically, "Maes would always say: 'Just you wait and see. Roy's working to make this country better. He's going to change the way it works. And when he does, he's going to make it safe for you. You'll be a family again.' He believed in you. How could I not?" she asked.

Roy looked down at his own hands and saw nothing but the blood from his past mistakes. He'd made so many of them. For Maes to still believe and for that belief to be ignited in Amelie…

She moved closer to him and held out her hand. A small glinting of silver caught his eye. He straightened and blinked, unsure of what she was offering. Her palm opened to reveal a State Alchemist's silver pocket watch. The middle insignia on the cover had been impacted inwards and the casing jammed eternally closed because of it. His heart got stuck in his throat. The watch had taken a bullet in the Ishbalan War. He'd thought it had been lost. Lost to the sands and the desert and the chaos.

"Maes gave this to me before I left Amestris," she said softly; her voice was barely above a whisper, "He said it was yours. He told me to keep it. 'Keep it, and you'll have whatever luck was with him that day'. So I did. I kept this and I thought about how scared you were in that war. You were always so eager to help people. I felt the hell that it was for you to kill them instead."

He touched the tarnished silver and felt the cracks on the face leading to the crater in the middle. That day, that memory, rang fresh in his mind. Luck? It had been the closest Roy had ever been to believing in divine intervention.

"Why are you showing me this?" he asked, gravel in his voice.

"We're both murderers, Brother. But we're both still here. And I have to believe there's a reason for that."

He stared at her, eye to eye. Such resignation and determination. Mistakes that needed to be absolved. He turned his gaze to the pocket watch in her dainty hand. He gently wrapped his hand around hers and closed her grasp around the tattered silver relic. They stayed that way for a moment, hands surrounding his original pocket watch.

"When this is over, you won't have to rely on luck anymore. I'll make it right."

She nodded, her eyes slowly overflowing with tears. She folded into him, her tiny body pressed against his in a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the crown of her head. She was softly crying. He closed his eyes and listened to it. To her endless faith being restored.

A small sound and he pulled away. She must have heard it, too. She wiped her eyes and they both looked towards the doorway. It was locked, but rickety at best.

"Someone's outside," he whispered.

She nodded, her throat bobbing.

He disentangled himself from her, "Stay down. If I snap, make good use of it," he lowered his voice so that even she had to listen hard to hear it.

Without so much as a squeaky floorboard, she ducked down behind the thick couch and waited. Roy drew his sidearm. It wasn't as reliable as his flames, but it would still work. The white hair that was barely visible beyond the chunky arm of the couch was the only indication of his sister's whereabouts. He moved to the door and readied to open it. One soft exhale to steel his nerves and he pulled hard on the door. The lock shattered and a heavy thud sounded the arrival of their unwanted visitor onto the wooden floor, face first. The threat in front of him, Roy placed the barrel of the gun to the back of the woman's red-haired skull.

"Move and I shoot," he stated sternly.

"I'm no threat," the woman's voice shook.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is Naomi. I want to help you."


	12. Fortify

**Fortify**

The automail had stayed relatively unscathed over the past months. He smiled to think this may have been the longest he'd gone without needing his mechanic. And, at least for now, she wouldn't have cause to nag him when she stepped off that train. He waited alone. Wondering just how much she would be happy to see him. There was nothing worse than her wrench against his temple. He shuddered to think that she'd find some excuse or another to connect metal to flesh.

Her shiny blonde hair caught his attention from across the platform. He gave a wave, hoping his taller stature would catch her attention. She waved back, her bright blue eyes never showing exasperation or annoyance. The military escorts had their eyes peeled, standing to quick and rapt attention when he walked up nonchalantly. Even without his uniform, they knew he once outranked them.

She hugged him. He couldn't help but relish the quick contact, the warmth of her even with the frigid winter air nipping at their exposed ears more soothing than his thick coat.

"Hey, Ed! Where's Al?" she quickly asked, noticing the lack of his younger brother.

He shrugged, "Staying close to the Fuehrer just in case."

"That bad, huh?" she asked softly. Her gentle concern made him smile ever so slightly and he looked to the uniforms that still stood at attention, "At ease. Mind getting her luggage?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

He rolled their eyes as they turned to follow his simple question. He would never get used to having to deal with that. Winry quickly latched onto his elbow.

"So, what kind of trouble did you get into this time?"

He glared at her, "What makes you think I got into trouble?"

"Well, you do tend to attract it."

"This doesn't have 'Ed's Fault' written all over it!"

"You sure?"

"Yes! This is something completely unrelated and in-no-way associated with me."

She gave a little squeeze, "Geez, I was just teasing."

The two grunts who'd been assigned to be Winry's bodyguards fumbled a bit with the heavy luggage. Ed had no doubt Winry had carted every tool and spare part to Central. She would beg him to try on new designs before she offered them to her clients. He loathed the idea of sitting while she ransacked his raw nerves time and again. Although, to be honest, he'd have to go through it anyways at least once. He'd shot up since Al had gotten his body back. Whatever sustenance he'd provided for that body across the Gate, the burden was gone and he'd shot up a good six or seven inches in the past year. The thought of Mustang complaining that he couldn't be referred to as 'shorty' or 'pipsqueak' or 'runt' made him grin. In fact, he was sure he was the same height or even taller than the General himself…

With the cold, Edward's leg had been aching and the automail was less than optimal. He needed the winter grade that'd been left behind in Rush Valley. Sending for his mechanic, even with the danger, was necessary if he was called upon to do more than just babysit Grumman.

"Is everyone ok? I heard about what happened earlier today," Winry asked quietly.

"Wasn't privy to all that but I haven't heard anything horrible."

"Well, that's something."

"I'm sure the plans are in the works to lure him out."

Winry had stopped walking, "You're not saying you actually hope to fight him, are you?" she cut him off.

He blanched for a moment, "Well…"

With a furrowed brow, she glared at him, "You...how could you do something so dangerous!"

"Well, it is kinda my job," he answered meekly.

She yanked her hand from the crook of his elbow, "Ugh! You...you're...UGH!" she stormed off and left him on the stairs of the station. Ignoring the escort car that had been sent for them, the young woman stomped off into the snow-covered sidewalks.

Ed hesitated. A young officer saluted before Ed waved him off.

"Sir?"

"Take her stuff to the hotel. I'll be...I'll be back later."

"Yes, sir!"

Sighing and leaving the stairs, he followed the angry set of footprints that his blonde mechanic had left like breadcrumbs for him.

* * *

 _Maes was sure he'd seen what he'd seen. True, he'd been in and out of an alchemy-induced coma for the past week, but he didn't doubt himself that much. That white hair was obvious to anyone who was looking for it. And ever since Amelie had jumped from his hospital room, he'd had all four eyes keen and aware of everything._

 _She didn't try to hide herself. Only stood, half veiled, behind the trunk of an old oak. She wasn't even staring at him. Just looking upwards. He followed her gaze and found a mirthful little smirk creep onto his face. Roy's office._

 _His head shaking, he walked over to her. She noticed him, he watched her head and eyes snap to attention at his direct approach. But she didn't run. Hands in her pockets, she stood her ground. His heart raced to think it was because he was so outmatched that she didn't back away or retreat. In a single touch, she could kill him and he'd have no moment to pull a knife and defend himself._

 _"_ _You're rather brave, coming onto military soil to see your brother."_

 _Her eyes bore into his, "I know how to stay hidden."_

 _"_ _I'll bet."_

 _"_ _What do you want?"_

 _"_ _To say thanks."_

 _Her eyes widened, "What?"_

 _"_ _For undoing whatever it was you did in the first place. Thanks."_

 _"_ _You're welcome."_

 _"_ _I take it you're not planning on hanging around."_

 _"_ _I was hoping he'd come with me."_

 _"_ _He won't."_

 _"_ _He loves power that much?"_

 _Maes almost laughed, "I doubt that's it at all."_

 _She looked at him, tired face, "Then why? Why would he choose the military over me?"_

 _"Just you wait and see. Roy's working to make this country better. He's going to change the way it works. And when he does, he's going to make it safe for you. You'll be a family again."_

 _Her eyes turned inward, searching for answers he'd made her look to. He looked back up at the window she'd been peering at. Sure enough, the unmistakable black hair of Roy Mustang was barely visible. Sighing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out stray bills and unclasped his pin from his lapel. Still keeping his distance, he outstretched his hand and offered them to her._

 _She looked at them, confused, "What..."_

 _"_ _Money. And a rank pin. It'll at least get you past border security without too much trouble."_

 _"_ _You're...why?"_

 _"_ _Because I know you can't stay here. And I know Roy can't leave. When that man sets his mind to something...but if you're here, it won't happen. And you know that, same as me. So, you need to get gone. Use my name as weight if you have to. "_

 _"_ _So I should turn away from him? Leave him to fight his way through this hell of a government alone?"_

 _"_ _You need to stay safe. Come back when he's done his job. Then...who knows? Maybe it'll be like you two never separated in the first place."_

 _She scoffed, "You're an optimist, aren't you?"_

 _"_ _I know Roy. And I've got to say, he's not one to back down."_

* * *

Roy's brow furrowed and he lifted the slight woman to her feet; his aimed his gun at her forehead and forced her back against the wall with his arm at her clavicle to pin her. She grimaced. His brain was going through case files he'd only barely glimpsed lest he be bored. But her red curls struck a memory.

"You're Roderick's right-hand," he said, unable to hide some disdain and surprise in his voice.

She nodded, "I didn't come here to cause problems."

"Well, then you shouldn't have come at all," he pulled back the hammer on his firearm, "You tell me why I don't rid Amestris of you right now before you can cause any more damage."

"I came to help, I swear it," her voice hitched a bit and Roy scoffed.

"She's telling the truth," Amelie's meek voice reached his ears. She walked closer, coming out from the shadows with her gaze intently set on Naomi. Roy didn't look away from the intruder, only clenched his jaw.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"I am."

Taking a step away but keeping the gun pointed at the red-headed woman, Roy stood shoulder to shoulder with his sister. Naomi brushed off the dust from her front where she'd landed when the door gave out. She was eyeing Amelie more than the gun pointed at her.

"You're her, aren't you? The Soul Alchemist?"

Amelie nodded but said nothing.

"Look, I know you don't know me but I had to find you. Is what you broadcast this afternoon true? Is he using alchemy?"

"Yes," Amelie answered.

"You said he's going to destroy Central - how?"

Roy cleared his throat, "You don't need to know anything else. Over here," Roy gestured with the gun.

The woman kept her gaze on Amelie but moved in accordance with Roy's commands. On the couch, he sat her down and tore a piece of fabric with his free hand and his teeth. He holstered the gun only long enough to tie her hands together at the wrists, and her legs together at the ankles.

"This isn't necessary," she insisted, hissing a bit in pain when he tightened the makeshift bond around her wrists.

"Well, forgive me if having a terrorist show up at our secret hideout makes me suspicious."

Roy pulled away and stood there, watching her; he kept the gun in his hand, down at his side. The firelight made her skin match her hair. Trapped between his desire to eradicate one of Roderick's minions and the fact that Amelie had already stated she was being truthful, he just looked to his sister. She came closer and her face was soft. It wasn't judgmental as his was.

"You're hurt," she said softly.

Unable to see any blood, Roy kept quiet. The woman shifted uncomfortably, "How did you know?"

"It was during the shootout, wasn't it?"

"So she was shooting at me a few hours ago and now you feel fine talking to her?" Roy interjected.

"She wasn't shooting at you. She shot at me," Amelie said casually, still keeping her gaze locked with Naomi's.

"Roderick knew you would be close by. He said to take you out so when Flame was killed, he couldn't be healed," she explained timidly.

Roy bristled, his grip tightening on his gun and he took a definite step closer. His sore palm readjusted its grip on the weapon and he couldn't help but clench his jaw. This woman had tried to kill his sister and, he could only assume, it was luck which had kept the bullet from hitting its mark. Perhaps that pocket watch had done some good afterall. Still, his face set into a scowl, he could only glare at the woman.

She shifted her weight nervously, "Look, I came to you, to help you. I hate alchemy, ok? Hate state alchemists. But you said in your broadcast that he would kill every citizen in Central. And I don't want that on my hands."

"Well, you'd be dead along with everyone else, so I don't think you have anything to worry about," Roy lowered his voice.

"So you weren't just bluffing," she deflated.

Amelie knelt in front of her and gently reached out. The woman jerked back but at Amelie's soft features instilled enough trust to let her touch her arm. Watching his sister repair whatever wound was there, he saw Naomi's surprised face give way to relief. A fracture, maybe? Something he couldn't see under her heavy coat. Something that only his sister would be able to tell a story of. If she was in that shootout, perhaps it was a graze that hadn't soaked through the layers of her thick coat.

"Is that alchemy?" she asked, eyes looking between her unseen wound and Amelie.

"It is. You came to help. Why?"

Naomi's eyes never looked away from Amelie's, "I have family in this city. I may not agree with them, but I don't want them dead."

"Can you tell us where he's hiding his transmutation circle?" Amelie asked.

"I've never seen one."

"Then what help are you to us?" Roy scoffed.

"Look, I'm here. Ok? I don't know about plans with alchemy but I know where he has supplies, supporters..."

Amelie sighed, "How long have you been with him?"

"Four years."

"Then you had to have seen something. Drawings? Lines? Symbols?"

The young woman shook her head, brow furrowed, "How is he going to kill everyone?"

"The alchemy he's trying to use can't be controlled. If he starts the transmutation, it will destroy every soul in the country, maybe even the world," Amelie allowed, "You have to think back - even things he may have scribbled down or had as artwork. Anything?"

Roy could see the young woman search her memories but could tell by her frustrated face that she truly had no idea what to look for in that internal quest. His own mind sparked an idea and he stepped closer to the two ladies, "Could you search her memories and recognize what the Gate showed you?" he questioned quietly.

His sister's face became ashen and she looked between him and Naomi, "I could, but…"

The redhead looked between them both, her eyes dilated. She licked her lips, "What are you talking about?"

Amelie looked back at her. She looked like a doctor delivering a unfavorable prognosis, "My alchemy lets me know everything you know."

"Ok, so?"

"I would have to…I would have to pull your soul from your body for a moment."

"You're joking, right?"

"If I have your memories, I can recognize things you might not even realize are alchemical signs and sigils. It could make the difference between saving everyone…or not."

"Will it…will it hurt?"

Amelie nodded, "Yes."

"Will you kill me?"

"No."

Roy sighed, "We can't have her screaming. Anyone nearby might come to investigate."

"We'll have to gag you," Amelie reasoned with her softly.

Seeing the pure trepidation on her face, Roy pitied her. No doubt this woman had already heard or seen what Amelie was capable of. To be asked to willingly submit to that pain…

"The decision is yours. I won't do it to you if you say no, but it will help us stop Roderick."

Her jaw worked and she looked at Amelie, "Then do it."

Amelie nodded and looked to Roy. He moved in and ripped another piece from the couch fabric, balling it up like knitting yarn. Naomi willingly opened her mouth. He pushed the orb of fabric into her mouth before wrapping another strip across and behind her head to secure it. Stepping back, he met his sister's eyes and turned to walk away, putting his back to Naomi, "Should I avoid touching you?" he lowered his voice clandestinely.

Her response was a whisper, "Yes. I won't go catatonic. Just be lightheaded. I'll need to sort through everything."

Amelie raised herself higher, her full weight on her knees in front of Naomi. Reaching out with both hands, she hesitated. Even for the wide-eyed fear in the young woman's eyes, Naomi nodded and clenched her eyes tightly shut.

A hand on each temple, Amelie started her transmutation. The light was sharp, cold, and seemed to cut through the victim. Voice muffled by the makeshift gag, the screams sounded like vicious echoes. Roy winced in sympathy. He couldn't watch. His jaw clenched and he welded his eyes shut. Begging, pleading screams pierced his resolve.

As abruptly as it started, it stopped. Stifling the urge to steady his sister as she swayed, he instead cradled the limp form of their informant. Amelie was pale, sweaty, but her eyes looked they were floating. She drunkenly pushed away from them and stumbled into the adjacent room. Roy let her go and laid Naomi onto the couch. He undid the gag and unraveled it, cutting her bonds too. Blood was dripping from her nose, and a bit more had pooled in her ears. His shoulders sagged and he trod into the kitchen to run the rag under some cold water. Crossing back, he crouched next to her and cleaned away some of the crimson stains before he laid the cloth over her forehead.

She snapped awake and her chest shuddered. Wide eyes turned to him and were brimming with tears. He knew that look; he placed a hand on her shoulder to soothe her, "It's over."

"She…that…how?"

"Alchemists get their power from a portal that connects the living and the dead. Her power is so strong because she was born in it."

"I thought I was going to die."

"It feels like it. But only if she completes the transmutation."

Tears rolled down her cheekbones and her eyes bore into his, "She's done it to you, hasn't she?"

Roy sat down on his haunches and sighed, "Yeah."

"She's your sister."

His brow furrowed, "How did you know?"

She sat up, bringing her knees to her chest. She was wincing, shivering, but she licked her lips and continued, "The way she tries to protect you. It's what sisters do. No one in the Republic could figure it out. She didn't match the profile of any state alchemist. But, I saw you in the warehouse. The way she tried to protect you. I would've done the same."

"You were the sniper," Roy said softly, realizing her involvement, "You said you had family here. A sibling?"

Her eyes were looking at nothing when she nodded, "A brother."

"Does he approve of what you do?"

"He doesn't know. What about you? No one knows about her. She's killed soldiers in the past. Why are you helping each other now?"

Roy could still see the words on those reports; seared into his memory. The experiments. The agony and fear. Her love for him had kept her a prisoner. It was his fault she was a hostage of the government.

"To be honest, I don't know why she's helping me. When she was a child, she was made a prisoner of Bradley's regime. I didn't know, and they never found out I was her brother. They knew she had one, but never who it was. They used me to keep her in line. She performed horrible experiments for them. If she refused, they tortured her. She tried to fight, and they threatened the brother they knew nothing about. And when she finally escaped, they tried to drag her back. She killed the men sent after her. When she found me, I called her a traitor. A murderer. She fled this country thinking I'd forsaken her."

"What changed your mind?"

"I read the reports. The classified documents. Every experiment. Every retribution for disobedience. She was in that lab for years. Everything she did, she did to protect me. Least I can do now is trust her."

* * *

His automail was getting heavier. He'd never thought of having it changed back before he'd left. Usually winters this far south weren't bad enough to cause a problem. He wondered idly as he trudged along if she could do it this trip or if she'd have to return to Rush Valley for the supplies.

Her blonde hair stood out against the sunset reds and golds of a snow-covered park bench. The pond in front of her had frozen over. He sighed, his breath puffing before disappearing into the air, "You don't have to storm off all the time, you know," he plopped down next to her.

"How can you be so reckless!" she growled, not looking at him.

"It isn't reckless. It is as safe as it can be."

She spun to glare at him, poking him hard in the ribs, "You shouldn't be working with the military anymore and you know it!"

His brows knit together, "What do you mean?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, "Al...he got his body back. But...even with the access from the military, there's nothing you could do for that girl."

He sighed and tried to erase Nina's face from his mind, "I know."

"So then why are you staying with the military?"

"Because if anything ever did happen to me, you and Granny and Al would be taken care of."

"Even if those homunculi are gone...it's still dangerous."

A cold wind made him shiver and the motion reminded him that his automail wasn't feeling quite right. He sighed, "Hey, I think it's freezing up a bit," he pointed to it.

She looked at his leg and then around them at the snow, "Yeah, I can imagine. Want me to put on the other one?"

"Did you bring some?"

"I heard it was snowing in Central. I figured I'd best come prepared."

He smiled, shaking his head incredulously, "You're just plain scary."

She gave a little smile and stood. He followed. Walking through the park, finding the main road again, Ed was grateful she'd come. Even if he didn't tell her, he doubted he'd been able to get home in time for the holiday with everything happening. Slowly reaching across the small gap between them, he took her hand in his. They walked on in silence, the puffs of condensing air disappearing almost in sync with each other.

* * *

Riza was not one for hasty decisions. Leaving the relative safety of Central Command and her team, she'd ventured out into the countryside with the hopes that Jean's discovery among the weathered letters would be the safe haven Amelie had retreated to. Still, her motions had been calculated no matter that she was as anxious to lay eyes on the General the same as Jean was Amelie. She'd taken detours and had instructed Havoc to drive in an opposite direction just long enough to confuse anyone trying to follow them. Now, out here, it was easier to see that she hadn't been trailed.

Turning off the engine a few hundred meters from the dimly lit abode, she stepped out from the jeep and closed the door softly. A motorcycle was slumped on the side of the house and half-hidden by a snow-covered shrub. Two sets of footprints were leading to the doorway and were highlighted by the moonlight. Another set of footprints had come from a different direction. Riza drew her weapon and walked forward steadily. Each step she took carefully to avoid the sound of crunching snow. The dim light on the inside of the cabin was shielded by torn curtains and a rickety door. She moved up to the window and looked in. She could only see a sliver of what lay inside. Her heart was loud in her ears and her palms felt sweaty despite the cold.

To the back, it seemed that Amelie was on a bed, laying down and facing away, motionless. She couldn't see the General. A silhouette passed by the window and she pulled back instinctively. Looking in again after the figure passed, she realized it was a female with unkempt clothes and red hair. Not someone she knew. Another glance told Riza that the intruder had remnants of blood on her face. Her jaw clenched and she moved to the door swiftly. With one strong kick below the handle, she barreled into the room and aimed her gun at the woman. A shout of panic and an order to stand down conflicted but she quickly saw the figure of her General. He'd been sitting on the ground under the window, out of view. He looked unharmed. Eyes darting between him and the unknown woman, she kept her gun drawn and aimed.

"Captain - it's ok!" Roy reiterated.

"Are you unharmed, sir?"

"I am. Stand down. She's no threat," he said soothingly; not an order, but a reassurance.

Looking down her sights at the woman one last time, she pulled her arms back and holstered the gun. Roy sighed and his shoulders dropped. Riza could see the tenseness in his muscles and the fatigue in his eyes. While hours had passed since the shootout, he hadn't been at peace after leaving behind those in his command.

"I'm glad to see you safe, General," she allowed.

"Same here. Is everyone accounted for on our end?"

"Yes."

"How did you find us?"

"Old correspondences spoke of a safe house she used. Havoc thought it the best place to start."

Roy nodded and looked at the woman, "Naomi, this is Captain Riza Hawkeye. Captain Hawkeye, Naomi. She willingly helped Amelie get information about Roderick's plan."

Riza could read between the lines and recognized the innate fear in Naomi's eyes. She'd allowed herself to be transmuted just so Amelie could garner information. If she were a spy, Riza doubted she'd give in to that request. That also explained why Amelie was alone in the dark. Seeing what that transmutation had done to her with the prisoners…

"Report?" Roy asked.

"No broadcasts. No other attempts. Once reinforcements showed up and you were gone, they retreated."

"Roderick wouldn't risk more men unless it was to bring you down," Naomi spoke up softly, "He's fixated on you. Everything he's doing is about getting rid of you as much as it is getting rid of the State Alchemist program."

"He wants revenge," Amelie whispered; she was bracing herself on the door frame with her eyes looking toward the floorboards. She didn't look strong enough to walk; her eyes were sunken and her cheeks pale.

"Revenge?" Roy asked.

"He has a notebook he uses…he thinks you killed some one…I can't tell who but he's obsessed with you more than anything."

"Well, that's comforting," Roy rolled his eyes.

"Did you find anything about alchemy?" Naomi asked.

"Everything's under the Grande Library. He's drawn out sigils…he has plans in that notebook to put the sigils under the library," Amelie closed her eyes and Riza could see her replay the scenes in her mind to get every last detail.

"The Grande Library?" Naomi asked, "We haven't heard any plans about that. Are you sure?"

She nodded, "The sigils…they aren't stable. Any nearby alchemy could set them off…I don't think he knows…"

"The Winter Formal," Riza found herself and Roy saying the same words at the same time. They met each other's eyes and then looked to Amelie and Naomi.

"What is that?" Naomi asked.

"State Alchemists gather every winter solstice to celebrate the graduating class; it's not a public event but most high-ranking officials and State Alchemists are in attendance. It's being held in the Grande Library this year," Riza answered quickly.

"He must think that his transmutation will only incapacitate the alchemists in the library," Roy mused.

"But the Formal is the day after tomorrow," Naomi added, "Are you able to cancel it?"

Roy shook his head and looked at Amelie, "If you can get to him, can you defuse the transmutation? Could you undo it? Because if we know where he'll be then that's our best chance of ending this. If he thinks we know, he might not even risk it and we'll lose him."

Amelie shifted her weight from the door frame and nodded, "I can't get rid of the transmutation circle unless I have his knowledge of it," her brow furrowed, "He's bound to be protecting that circle. If I transmute him and use his knowledge to counteract the transmutation, it'll start, but I should be able to stop it before it kills anyone and sets off a chain reaction."

"I'm smelling a lot of 'if' coming from this plan," Naomi swallowed back her trepidation.

"It doesn't seem like we have a choice. Cancel it, and he'll keep attacking. If we use the alchemists as bait, we know he'll take it now," Riza sighed.

"Not just the alchemists. Me," Roy crossed his arms on his chest and held his chin in his right hand, "If he wants revenge, then I'll let him think he's getting it."

Looking between the three others, Naomi shifted her weight on her feet, "So, what do we do?"

Roy straightened, "You need to go back to Roderick. If he thinks you've been captured, he might not stick to his plan," he paused long enough for Naomi to nod her head in silent agreement. "Amelie needs to be kept hidden. Captain, you and I need to go about our normal routine until the last possible moment. He needs to think we're oblivious. We'll have to spring a trap right when the celebration starts, after everyone's arrived."

Riza shared a glance between the others, but her eyes landed on her General, "How will we get everyone back to Central undetected? I have a civilian jeep, but having all four of us in one vehicle will be conspicuous."

"I was in the tunnels when you two got on your bike. I snatched another one and followed. It's parked in the tree line. I can take it back into the city and get into the tunnel system from there," Naomi spoke up.

"I can just take the motorcycle back," Amelie added.

Shaking his head, Roy chewed on the inside of his cheek, "No. You're still wanted. Being on the bike makes you an easily identified target. I would say you should go with the Captain, but I can't ride. "

"Sir, you and she should take the jeep. Amelie can hide in the rear seat foot well. I can take the motorcycle and use another route."

"Then let's move out. Naomi, just be sure to stay close to Roderick. I doubt his plan will change, but, if it does, you need to call this number," the General grabbed a piece of scrap fabric and pulled a weathered pen from his jacket to scribble the information down, "It's a friend. When she picks up, you tell her Mustang owes her money. She'll understand and Amelie will be able to talk with you." Amelie's unsure eyes looked for Roy's. He didn't meet them, just looked back to Riza after Naomi gave a quick nod of her head, "Let's move out."

* * *

Dry air from the radiator filled the room, made his throat sting a little when he swallowed. His hands were red from wringing them together. He'd done his chore, made sure Hawkeye wasn't followed out of the city, and now all he could do was wait for word that everyone was secure. The dim feeling of panic in his gut was gone, replaced by a mixture of sadness and apprehension. Where ever Amelie was, she was safe, but not at ease. The emotions felt so intertwined with his own, he could barely tell them apart. Looking back to his wrung-dry hands, he sighed. He'd had dalliances in Central, a few in East City, but never anything like this. Hell, the last girl he'd taken on a date had stabbed him and his commanding officer, then left them both for dead. Didn't exactly instill confidence in his choice of women. Amelie was different. She was attractive, but that wasn't what her allure was based on. For someone so diminutive, she had such a strong resolve that stirred a fledging devotion in him. Hard as it had been letting her leave with the General, he knew he had to. Maybe after all of this was over, she could rethink her priorities. He could, too.

Jean's phone ran and he crossed the dim living room to pick it up, "Havoc here," he said officially, trying to keep the eagerness from his voice.

"Hawkeye sent word. They're on their way back to the city now," Kain spoke and Jean could picture the younger man's smiling face.

"Thanks for letting me know. Any ETA?"

"Not yet. She just said everyone was safe."

"Well, that's a start; thanks again."

"Sure thing," the line cut off and Jean was left alone, gingerly placing the headset back on the receiver.

He didn't know if the General would be kind enough to bring Amelie directly to his flat. Knowing how his mind worked, he'd likely want to keep a close eye on her since she'd been targeted by Roderick; if anyone could help them out of this mess, it would be her and the General wouldn't risk that upper hand. Unsure of how his interaction with Amelie would progress, and of the General's ongoing reaction, Jean just had to wait this uncertainty out.

* * *

Roy felt the silence, thick and tense, wrap around him. Sitting behind him in the rear seat, his sister was looking out the window at the moonlit countryside. He wanted to talk, to say thank you for her help. Until his alchemy was restored - if it was restored - he was vulnerable. He knew that, no matter how proficient a fighter he was, she was his best protection until he was reunited with Riza. He couldn't find the words. No matter how much he felt he'd amended his past mistakes, it still felt like canyons were between them. He glanced once more in the rearview mirror and cleared his throat.

"When we get closer to Central, you'll need to get down. The Fuehrer has approved roadblocks into the city."

She nodded silently. Her attention was still on the country's rolling hills. He turned his gaze to the road again. His sister was the one having to finish this fight that he had inadvertently started. He supposed his duties as a soldier, a state alchemist, were bound to put him in the cross hairs sooner or later. He just didn't think it would have ever come to this.

"Once we're past the roadblocks, I'll be dropping you off with Madame. She can keep you safe until it's time to put a stop to Roderick."

Those ebony eyes turned to him instantly, "Can't I stay with someone else?"

He tried to ignore the piercing gaze he could feel in the rearview mirror. He readjusted his grip, keeping his eyes to the road, "Madame is the safest bet. Roderick is after you now, too. He knows where you've taken refuge before and we can't risk you being an easy target."

"And what if Madame won't take me?"

"She will. After the fallout from Bradley's regime, she formed a lot of her own theories about your situation."

Amelie continued to stare at him, "I would much rather stay with Lieutenant Havoc," she cut to the chase, daring him to deny her that courtesy. He couldn't say he was surprised; grown woman or not, they were still siblings and he supposed some power struggles were bound to happen.

"I can't let you."

"Why?"

"I will look the other way regarding your encounter, but I won't put you or my soldiers in more risk than they need be. Relationships complicate things. They split loyalties," he finally met her glare in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were tight, her brow furrowed. He clenched his teeth down, ready for the oncoming tongue lashing he could feel forming in her mind. His hackles up, he scoffed, "Besides, you'll both be done with each other soon enough."

"You're the last one who should lecture me on relationships. This whole stint is you putting your own intimacy issues on me."

"You don't know what love is."

"You do, and you're so afraid of it, you hide from it."

"This isn't about me, Amelie. This is about defeating an enemy who would kill us all if given the chance. Lieutenant Havoc is a soldier, first and foremost. He will follow his orders and you will respect that I am his commanding officer."

She looked down her nose at him, "You're not mine," thinly veiled disdain dripped from her voice and she turned her attention out to the countryside once more. Swallowing back his frustration, he sighed and focused on the gravel lane again.

His shoulders fell and he took his foot from the accelerator. The car slowed and then stopped all together. She afforded him a sidelong glance when he put the car in park and slumped forward onto the wheel; his arms were braced over top of it and he looked out from under the roof through the windshield to see the moon, "You're right. I'm not," he allowed, looking back down to the lit city below, just another short drive away, "I'm not your commanding officer. When I say you can't stay with Havoc, it's not because I don't trust you, or him, but because I need you both ready for this fight. I can't let my emotions dictate my strategy. Right now, I have to be a General. And right now, I need you to fall in line. I made a promise to Hughes: I would get to the top and change this country. Until then, I can never stop being a soldier. Not for you, not for anyone. Do you understand that?" he looked to her in the rearview mirror.

Her face had softened, "I'm beginning to," she intoned, no judgement in her voice, only sullen acceptance. He reached back to the gear shift but she spoke again, "Just don't forget who you're changing this country for."

He smiled, "I won't. That's why I surround myself with people whom I love, and who love me in return. I learned a long time ago I couldn't do this alone. Nothing would make me happier than for you to help me with my mission."

Those eyes met his, her smile so similar to his own, "We need to finish this one, first."

* * *

Having waited for what felt like hours, it didn't take much to rouse Havoc from the light sleep he'd fallen into on his couch. The knock was gentle; not the General's, but not Amelie's either. Much as he wished Mustang would have brought her to him, he knew it wouldn't happen. Just wishful thinking. He rubbed the sand of sleep from his eyes and looked out the peephole in the door to see Hawkeye standing at ease. He unlocked the door and opened it, giving a half-hearted smile.

"Welcome back."

"Thank you. I can't stay long. General Mustang just wanted to give you these as a thank you for your diligence," she held out a box of cigarettes and gave nothing away with a face set in stony resolve.

He took the cigarettes, his favorite brand, and smiled, "Give him my thanks, will ya?"

"Of course. Have a good night, Jean."

"You, too."

He lazily closed the door and turned the bolt. Walking into his bedroom where there were no windows, he popped the top from the carton which had already been opened once. Seeing the perfectly rolled slip of paper, he pulled it and a cigarette from the box. Memorizing the lines scribbled on the scrap, he wrapped it around his cigarette and lit them both, drawing in the sweet taste of tobacco. He walked from his bedroom with a thick jacket and slung it over his civilian clothes before leaving the safety of his flat.

His destination only a mile away, he decided to walk the distance. Having taken four right turns and casually ensuring no one was still behind him, he meandered to the hostel he'd been given instruction to visit. The snow had started to turn brown and black from the constant traffic; no new snow had fallen since last night and most of what remained had turned icy under the midday sun. He saw a street cart selling flowers, just about to close up shop for the night. A spring in his step, he offered a smile and some coin to have two little bouquets of flowers. The elderly woman's eyes were wrinkled with years of happiness and she gave a little wave when he continued on his path. His cigarette had reached the butt and he flicked it into a snowbank along the roadside.

The hostel appeared down a side street soon enough and he gingerly opened the door. Behind the bar, polishing some of her glassware, was Madame Christmas. Her pearls and fur stole were as constant as the sun, and, just like him, her cigarettes were never far from reach. He shook away the cold air and offered a warm smile. She met it and put her chore down.

"Jean! My favorite lad's come to visit. Better than that no-good General of yours!"

Saddling up to the bar, Havoc chuckled, "Well, to top things off, I brought you flowers," he offered one of the small bouquets to her. Her smile highlighted the deep wrinkles in her aged face, but she gave a sidelong look to the side. One of her hostesses came out; Vanessa, if his memory served him well. The curvaceous young woman slid up next to him and dotted a kiss to his cheek, "I thought I'd come by and…have a good time," he gave a grin to both ladies. A hostel, yes; a procuress of talent, definitely.

"Ooh, and you brought extra flowers! I'm so flattered!" Vanessa squealed.

"How's work been lately, Jean?"

"Rough. You heard about all the terrorist incidents, I'm sure."

She let out a harsh scoff, "That Mustang's useless - can't even get a rein on these morons. Guess that makes him more a moron, eh?" she jabbed a smile before she gave a look to Vanessa, "Dear, you heard the man; get him settled in for the evening, won't you?"

Vanessa giggled and took his hand. He slid from the barstool and followed. Madame called out after him, "I'll send a meal up when you need to get your strength back!"

Blushing if only for the charade, he continued to follow Vanessa up the stairs. At the second landing, she paused and let his hand go. No windows were in view, and the second floor had a fire escape at the end of the hall. She looked around and dropped the coquettish act. Giving him a genuine hug, she smelled the flowers and looked down the hall which couldn't been seen from the outside.

"Poor thing's exhausted. Roy-boy brought her by about an hour ago. Madame will bring some food up in a bit just so she remembers to eat," she pointed to the third room on the right.

"Thank you. I mean it."

She dotted a kiss to his cheek, "Don't mention it."

He nodded and made his way down the hall; Vanessa stayed out of sight and slipped into another room - her bedroom - just as to not arouse suspicion. Walking to the room she'd given him, he knocked gently at the door. A moment of shuffling feet and the door opened a bit; she caught sight of him and opened it fully. He looked to the flowers in his hand and offered them.

"Brought something to cheer you up."

Amelie blushed a bit and stepped aside, taking the flowers and burying her nose into the petals with a deep inhale. He stepped in and she softly closed the door.


	13. The Coda

**The Coda**

Staring at his scribbled notebook, Roderick tried to focus. Tried to ignore the welling panic at Naomi's disappearance. Had she been captured? Tortured for information she didn't have? He'd kept his endgame from everyone, even her. Would she now pay the price? Would Flame take another of his loved ones?

Loved one...

He closed his notebook. Was that what this feeling was? He'd forgotten it. For anyone else, he would have taken their loss as a negligible one. War always came with casualties. He just didn't think he'd be so concerned over one. If he succeeded, would he get her back? Or was she locked away so deep in the military's interior that he'd lose her forever? His jaw clenched and he stood from his desk to head towards the door. Perhaps the search party had found something - they'd been searching all night and into the dawn twilight - and just hadn't been to inform him yet.

Halfway to his own door, there was a knock. His heart froze. Was this the report he didn't want?

"Come," he allowed, his voice more rasp than he expected it to be. The door creaked and opened slowly. His heart sank low into his stomach. Naomi stood there in front of him with a meek smile and sullied clothes. Despite the sudden relief and excitement, he forced himself to stay still and offer only the slightest of smiles, "You had us all worried."

"I'm sorry. Wasn't my intention."

"Are you hurt?"

"Nothing a little rest won't heal. I'm sorry, Roderick."

His brow furrowed, "For what?"

She sighed and looked to her feet, "I missed my shot. The white-haired woman was there and I missed her. The shot went high."

"You did your best, I'm sure. So you have nothing to be sorry for," he wanted to reach out to her, but held himself back, "What happened after the shot?"

"Someone shot back. I was forced off the tower. I think I hit my head, but when I woke up I heard sirens so I made my way to my station by Flame's townhome in case he retreated there. When he didn't, I started making my way back here," she held her arm and offered a soft smile.

"Well, I am relieved to see you unharmed."

"Thank you."

Looking back to his notebook over his shoulder, he slowly made his way to his desk and beckoned her to follow. Looking to a map on the wall, primitive as it was, he pointed to the next great task he'd planned, "Tomorrow evening, I need you with me. We're going to strike again against the state alchemists," the dusty map crinkled a bit when he smoothed out the rolling bottom, "They're having their winter formal - my plan is to take a few of our strongest and hide under their little shindig. We'll be able to cleanse dozens of their alchemy in one fell swoop."

She straightened a bit, "You think you can pull it off?"

"Only one way to tell. The key is to make sure as many of them are upstairs as possible. The more we can disarm, the better."

"And you want me with you?"

"Absolutely. You're my right hand. And if anyone deserves to see something so spectacular, it's you."

A cockeyed little grin and she moved closer, looking at the map in more detail, "Bold plan. I like it."

His grin matched hers; the pride of seeing just how much she'd been through all to help him accomplish these goals...It made his confidence swell. Where he had doubt, seeing her strength erased it.

"What time?"

"I want us in place by 1700 hours so we can lay in wait; the formal is supposed to start at 1900 which will give us plenty of time to move in. Flame is supposed to be giving the opening speech. I want to hit him and his beloved alchemists right when he's at his most confident."

She offered a wry smile, "Finally bring him down a notch. What of the white-haired woman?"

"If anyone sees her, kill her on sight by any means necessary."

"Should we go looking for her?"

He sighed; having her out of the picture permanently would be advantageous. Still, she was powerful and he couldn't risk men on a mission that even Naomi hadn't been able to complete. He sighed, "Not actively. Let's just keep an eye out. If we're lucky, she'll show herself before tomorrow night."

"Understood."

He watched her for a moment; she looked tired and he gingerly placed a hand on her shoulder, "Go rest. Don't worry about preparations. I need you at your best for this."

She offered a soft smile and nod before looking over the map once more. With that, she left. Roderick looked at his timepiece in the corner. It was just now sunrise and he felt warm even if it wasn't shining on him directly. Looking back to the map, he traced the outlines of the tunnels, the Grande Library, committing them once more to memory so he could make his way in and out to complete preparations alone. That would wait. Now that his right hand had returned, he could afford to take his own advice and rest for a bit.

# _ #

Eyes sore from straining them in the early morning light, Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache was beginning to tug at his temples. His office door opened and shut quietly. He looked up to see Riza standing relaxed with a look of mild concern on her face. Black Hayate headed over to his couch by the fireplace and snuggled up among the warm pillows. The pup had enjoyed the warmth of the fire the last few days around the office.

"What time did you get here this morning, sir?"

"Too early," he closed the file he'd been reading and leaned back into his chair, "I'm trying to piece together a defense for Amelie. After all this is over, hopefully we can get Congress to overturn her warrant."

"She'd be grateful, I'm sure."

Eyes closed, he sighed. His mind replayed her meeting with him and Maes all those years ago. She'd tried to tell him then. Tried to convince him, "I've made so many mistakes with her," he mused aloud, "She's missed out on so much of her life."

"If I may, sir: perhaps that's why she's intent on catching up on lost time."

He smiled and leaned forward; her insight was always spot on. With a mirthful smile, he conceded, "Perhaps."

"Would you like me to keep the Fuehrer informed of the situation, sir?"

"Probably would be best before he gets bogged down for the day. You don't mind?"

"Not at all, sir."

"Good. Carry on."

She gave a simple, silent command to Black Hayate and Roy smiled as the beloved pup fell into step aside his master. He reopened the file and thumbed through the musty pages to find where he'd left off. His office door opened, but didn't close. He looked up to see Hawkeye still standing there, "Is there something else, Captain?"

She faced him fully and stood at attention, "I must apologize, sir."

"For what?"

"I visited Lieutenant Havoc last night and gave him a pack of cigarettes, stating they were from you."

He stared at her blankly while his mind processed all of the implications. Hands steepled in front of him, he stared ahead at nothing. Jean was smart enough to not be followed, and no doubt Amelie was more at ease having him there. Riza had never truly gone behind his back before, and he'd always trusted her judgement when it came to objectivity. If she felt the need to involve Havoc, then perhaps there was an end-game he couldn't see through the familial relation.

"May I ask why?"

"Smoking calms him, sir. And a calm team will be a more focused and reliable team."

Shoulders dropping with a heavy sigh, he couldn't help but smile a bit at her answer. Such a simple idea, but absolutely the truth when it came to stressful situations, "Very well, Captain. I appreciate your foresight in the matter. Carry on."

She clicked her heels together with her approving dismissal and strode confidently from the office. Again, he was alone with the hearth fire he'd had to stoke back to life this morning. The heat was a welcome distraction from the biting cold outside which he'd trudged through to get here. Icicles had accumulated on his townhome windows overnight, and more had shown up at Central Command. Beautiful in the early sunlight, they'd started to melt a bit after he'd come in and awoken the fire.

Thankfully the night before had proven to be not only strong progress, but a beautiful reunion. He'd made Amelie come in from the back after he'd made his entrance. He appreciated every nuance of Madame's talent; able to read between the lines so well that he hadn't even a chance to speak a coded sentence before she cut him off with a warm approval and willingness to help. He thought he even saw a tear in her eyes when she embraced Amelie. Vanessa had cried a bit, too. As cousins, she'd grown up with Amelie and him if only for a short time before she went to school. And while he'd had no intention of letting her and Havoc rendezvous, Riza had seen through his protective streak. She was right. There, Amelie was surrounded by people who unabashedly cared for her. That kind of environment was the best thing for her right now. It was easy to forget sometimes that, deep down, Riza was a romantic who had no shame when it came to ensuring happy couples stayed so. A sudden memory of her wedding gift to Maes and Gracia made him widely smile: a favorite recipe book she'd compiled by hand based on her memories alone of what both of them loved to eat. Gracia's famed apple pie had come from that very book.

The memory's golden joy taken away as soon as it had arrived, Roy opened the side drawer of his desk and saw the picture he'd hidden away there. Maes and himself in slack black ties and undone white vests after his wedding. As best man, he'd gotten them both into quite a bit of trouble during the stag party. In the background, Gracia in a lace-covered ivory gown. He could almost make out Riza, too.

He closed the drawer hastily and looked back to the file in front of him. He would do right by more than just Amelie.

# _ #

Even if he had all the time in the world, he was sure it wouldn't be enough. He wanted to lie here, study her, and take eternity to do it. That was what love was, wasn't it? The need, the urge, to know someone so completely that there was no missing space between them. His hand trailed down the curve of her shoulder, down to her arm and hip, brushing gently over her ivory skin. His body was still thrumming from last night, his usual alert self pushed deep by this peaceful silence. She'd fallen back into a restful sleep and even the sunlight coming through the thick curtains with a vengeance hadn't woken her. Still, he could feel her. Was he supposed to say what he felt now? What this that moment he'd read about in poems and novels? The silent, unspoken words that seemed to be inconsequential compared to looks, touches? Nerves that had been fluttering around in his stomach settled. He would have to meet the day and retrieve his orders. Leave this warm sanctuary. Leave her. Seeing how soundly she was sleeping, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, told him she felt safe here. He couldn't help but smile at the irony. In a hostel in the middle of Central, she felt safe.

As a younger man, he'd made mistakes. He vividly remembered his first girlfriend and their first time. It had been sloppy, careless, harried. She'd cried during and after. Horrified, he confided in his mother who explained what he'd done wrong. While that relationship hadn't lasted, he swore to himself he would never hurt another woman that way when she chose to give herself to him. No matter if it was her first time or not, he would be tender.

He felt like he'd done right by Amelie. Both times, her body had been lit like candle wax with flame behind it. Beyond her body, all he could see was white. The rooms had each vanished. The white had been warm and enveloped him the way she did. She seemed unaware of her alchemy running its course. For all his strength, while he'd been braced over her his body was shivering, quaking. Sensations he'd never felt before inundated him. His body had been weightless and heavy at the same time.

He kissed her temple and rolled away, out of the bed. She didn't move, only kept sleeping on. Pulling on his shirt, he yanked on his pants and tucked it in. He leaned precariously forward to slip on his socks and boots. The first he got on without issue. The second slipped from his hands and landed on the wooden floorboards with a thick thud. She stirred and turned to look at him. He gave an apologetic grin but didn't feel the need to say anything when she offered a tired smile back. Boots on, he leaned back into the bed and gave her another kiss. She made a contented little sigh and her eyes drifted softly shut again.

"Rest. I'll be back later," he whispered.

She nodded languidly and drifted back off, secure in her dreams.

Havoc yanked his jacket on and zipped it all the way up, shrugging it to cover his exposed neck. Leaving the hostel so early meant no one was around to see him off. Perhaps that was best. It meant he didn't need to be embarrassed about staying the night.

The city was just waking up. It felt like he was, too.

# _ #

The slight aroma of cigar smoke wafted from the grand foyer when Riza was given open doors to enter. The Fuehrer was walking down the regal but unadorned staircase. For all the perks of the position, her grandfather had remained the same low-maintenance, if not eccentric, personality. He smiled widely to see her and Black Hayate. The stress of his position was immense but he'd retained his joviality.

"Riza! I hoped you'd be by today!"

"General Mustang thought it prudent I speak with you."

He proffered his elbow and she took it; his footsteps led them on to the study on the main floor. No doubt anticipating the sensitive nature of the conversation they would have, he dismissed his butler and requested the doors closed behind him. His wits just as sharp as they'd always been, a pot of tea was prepared and sitting on the table with two cups. Riza couldn't help but smile at the brightly colored dog bowls on the floor; one with fresh water and the other with treats.

"I see you were expecting us."

"Considering the excitement during the press conference, I'm a little surprised I didn't see you yesterday afternoon."

"My duties kept me elsewhere occupied, sir."

He nodded and sat her down in the high-backed chair. He poured each of them a cup of tea and sat down heavily with a sigh. The delicate aroma of Xingese jasmine tea was nostalgic. Her mother had always been fond of the flavor. She stirred her sugar into the tepid water and waited silently. Her grandfather was patient, but still preferred to assume control of such topics as was bound to be discussed.

"Did the General truly keep his alchemy?" he peered at her over the gold-rimmed brim of the teacup. Mustang's charade yesterday had been perfect, and it included keeping the Fuehrer in the dark.

"No, sir."

"So it is true, then. This man can take away alchemic abilities."

"Yes, sir."

"What plans are we making?"

"General Mustang's informants have revealed that Roderick is planning to attack the winter formal. They believe he is trying to perform his alchemy on everyone present."

"That would be a showstopper, all right. However, we're not cancelling the formal, are we? I imagine Mustang would rather attack Roderick when we'll know where he is. Stopping him prematurely could mean he would escape."

"That is the General's thought exactly, sir."

He remained silent for a long moment. The sun's reflection on his glasses hid his eyes when he looked out at the manicured lawn. Black Hayate lapped on the water he'd been provided and grabbed another snack from the bowl. Riza took some comfort in the warm silence. It wasn't awkward or filled with nervous energy. Here, she could truly relax even though the starched blue uniform she wore reminded her of her rank and obligation.

"Who's helping Mustang pull off alchemy?" he asked bluntly. A practiced smile in place, Riza said nothing and let him think aloud. He sipped from his tea and kept his eyes on the lawn, "The Elrics were with me yesterday; the flame I saw from here was not the General's style. Not to mention, the getaway car should have been nothing but ribbon from the weapons that were used on it. Someone was continuously reinforcing the car and that takes a high level of skill. I doubt even young Alphonse could have done it."

"Is that a question, sir?"

"If it were, would you answer?"

"If it were an order from you, then yes," she tread lightly.

"What about a question from your curious grandfather?" She remained silent, and he nodded appreciatively, "Very well. You may keep Mustang's secrets for now. When this is over, I do expect a formal report with all of the details."

"When this is over, sir, I expect the General will be the one to deliver it."

He chuckled a bit and took another sip from his teacup. He was quiet for moment longer but he didn't seem to have been upset by her soft refusal to answer his questions, "What support from me does the General need?"

Riza sighed and put her teacup and saucer back down on the table, "He needs you to remain absent from the formal. He would also prefer if the Elric brothers could be with you for the rest of today and tomorrow as well."

"Is that what he wants, or what you want, my dear?" his soft eyes turned back to look at her.

"Both, sir."

"Well, how can I say no to my favorite granddaughter."

"Only granddaughter," she corrected with a smile.

# _ #

For the third time, he crumpled the paper under his pen and threw it in a wastebasket. The words weren't coming to him. He could feel what he wanted to convey to Congress. The urge to exonerate his sister and prove that her crimes had been in self-defense. Yet, no matter how he tried to put those feelings into ink, he fell miserably short. The sound of a meek knock gained Roy's drifting attention. Writing unsuccessfully, he didn't mind stopping to beckon his visitor. Shieska walked in and gave a courteous little bow, but her stiff posture afterwards was all he needed to know: she was nervous. He offered a gentle smile, hoping to put her at ease.

"You asked for me, General?"

"Yes," he stood and moved around to the front of his desk, "I wanted to thank you for your help. I understand you provided Captain Hawkeye with valuable resources."

She smiled, her face's concern melting away and her posture relaxing, "Oh, of course! It's nothing."

"Your talent is truly remarkable. Able to read anything and reproduce it flawlessly. Does it work that way with conversations I wonder?"

"Oh, absolutely. Comes in handy when my mother and I disagree," she allowed.

Arms crossed over his chest, he felt his shoulders rise and fall, unbidden, "In addition, I thank you for your continued loyalty to Brigadier General Hughes. No doubt you know he had a personal interest in the information you gave Captain Hawkeye."

Eyes looked down to the floor and she nodded, "Yes, sir."

"I also wanted to know if you were willing to continue a project of his regarding that information," he broached the topic softly; Shieska had never once given him reason to doubt her stalwart reliability. But, he couldn't ask anything of anyone outright anymore. Especially when a fugitive he was trying to protect was involved.

She perked up and took a step closer, lowering her voice, "Anything to help, sir. Brigadier General Hughes never told me much about the topic; I only knew how much it meant to him," she folded her hands at her front.

"Very well," he picked up a scrap of paper on his desk and handed it to her, "I would like you to go to this address. Tell no one where you're going. Everything you need will be provided to you. When you're there, I would like you to listen to everything told to you. Don't write it down just yet. When you're done, you're to report only to myself or Captain Hawkeye."

Brow furrowed, she looked at the unfamiliar address, "My duties..."

"Your supervisor is well aware that you are working on a special project for me. You need not worry about that."

"Oh, well, of course then!"

He gave a soft smile and walked back around to sit in his chair, hoping to get some sort of defense penned out before the remainder of his staff arrived, "Then that's all I need for now, Shieska. Thank you."

She gave another little bow and quickly left his office. He watched her go. Hughes had seen fit to trust her with something so precious as a woman's life. If he wanted to clear Amelie's name, he needed her account of everything that had happened. Painful as it was, her memory would prove that the upper brass of Bradley's regime had no care for her, or the country. He swung his chair around to look out the window onto the frozen courtyard. Everyone would be arriving soon. The silver glean of the city beyond the walls of Central Command showed no evidence of yesterday's war zone. If he hadn't been a part of it, he might not have believed it to have happened at all. Adding yet more items on his list of goals, the healing of his city and the return of his sister to a normal life had moved to the top.

With a thick exhale, he picked his trench coat from the coat hanger and pulled it on. He left a note on Hawkeye's desk so she didn't worry too terribly. He had other matters which needed his attention.

# _ #

Looking at the address once more to be sure she'd not gotten it wrong, Shieska opened the door timidly and peeked in. The place reeked of cigars and alcohol. The dim, amber lighting made it feel like evening while it was still only a half-past nine. No matter that the general had told her to come, she felt a pit in her stomach when she caught a whiff of mustiness. He had to have been wrong, he wouldn't have sent her to a…whatever place this was.

The wind whipped past and yanked the door open. She shrieked and darted inside before it slammed closed again. Her loud entrance caught the attention of an older woman behind the bar. She looked like she'd been smoking every day since birth, but her eyes were bright and warm. Shieska gave a nervous smile and a wave.

"Hi…I was sent by—"

The woman chuckled and cut her off, "Come on in, sweetheart. Pull up a chair!"

"Oh, ok," Shieska cautiously sat on a barstool and looked around. A few men were slumped in a booth in the corner - passed out maybe? - and the thick, stained-glass windows hid the brightness from outside. She cleared her throat and looked back to the hostess behind the bar, "I, um, was sent here to—"

Again, the older woman chuckled and cut her off, "Don't worry, darling. We get a lot of first timers from the military in here. Vanessa!" the woman called out to the side.

Clothed in a tight, dark blue dress, a woman with long brown hair sauntered out and gave a smile to both the hostess and Shieska. When she sat on the adjacent stool, Shieska tried to skid hers further away but only made it off balance and had to grab the brass rail of the bar to keep from falling.

Vanessa took her hand, "We were told you'd be coming by."

Cheeks red with embarrassment, Shieska pulled her hand away quickly, "No, see, there must be some mistake! I'm not - well I am - but I'm not - not like this!"

Vanessa leaned in closer with a soft, welcoming smile, "If you come upstairs with me, you'll get what you came here for."

"I didn't come here for anything!" Shieska waved her hands in front of her, trying to politely decline the very overt advances.

The older lady laughed again, "Don't worry, sweetheart. It'll be worth your time."

Mouth hanging open in pure horror, her hand was grabbed by the young lady, Vanessa, and she was pulled away from the bar towards the stairs. Squirming and looking over her shoulder to the barkeep, she stuttered a weak objection but found herself still moving towards whatever room was Vanessa's destination. Up the stairs, Vanessa gently released her hand and offered an apologetic smile.

"I'm so sorry, dear. We didn't mean to make you uneasy. Shieska, right?"

Voice high with uncertainty, she nodded, "Yes…"

"The general sent you here to take a testimony for someone. We just have to keep up appearances in case you were followed."

Her mind shifting into the conversation she and the general had earlier, she nodded, "Oh! Oh, good!" but at seeing Vanessa's sympathetic smile, she backpedaled and shook her head, "I didn't mean that I wasn't flattered! You're gorgeous!"

Her light chuckle made Shieska relax, "Don't worry. But the young woman you are here to help is expecting you. She's down the hall. I'm not going to lie: a lot of what she has to tell you is…disturbing. But if you can help her be exonerated, we'd be most appreciative. We all care very deeply for her."

"Miss Rochester?" Shieska asked in a wondrous whisper.

Vanessa nodded and pointed to the end of the hallway, "She's in that room. When you're done, I'll escort you out."

Another nod and a wave of relief saw her walking down the hallway alone while Vanessa hung back to give her space. She'd never read any of the correspondences that Hughes had kept, but she knew enough from news clippings and other classified documents to be keenly aware of the reputation this young lady had. What connection she had to the late brigadier general, she didn't yet know.

# _ #

Hands shoved deep in his pockets, Roy Mustang trudged through ankle-deep snow. With the plan he concocted, he needed the Elric brothers to know about it. Even if they weren't going to be there, they needed to know what was about to happen. He'd kept them in the dark too many times before and, truthfully, each time it had backfired.

Finding their little temporary townhome in a row of similar buildings, he knocked on the door. The movement in the upstairs curtains told him that at least one of the brothers was home. He waited until the sound of the door unlocking made him stand a little straighter. Alphonse opened the door, his boyish smile warm and inviting.

"General. Didn't think you'd be here."

Mustang started to respond when he heard a yelp from inside the house. Distinctly Edward's. He looked past Al to see if he could spot where it was coming from and, when he couldn't, looked back to the boy.

The younger brother shrugged, "Brother's having his automail taken off. Did you want to come in?" Roy nodded and stepped inside. Al bolted the door shut behind him and moved past the larger alchemist to the kitchen, "I thought Captain Hawkeye didn't want you wandering around on your own now?"

Roy shrugged, "I didn't exactly tell her I was leaving the office. Just needed some fresh air is all."

Alphonse smiled knowingly, "I was going to have some tea. Care for some?"

"No. Thank you," Roy said, distracted by another pained and muffled yelp coming from upstairs.

No matter the logic, he felt it was his fault that Edward still had automail. His fault that, when given the chance to use Dr. Marco's philosopher's stone, he chose to cure his own blindness after healing Havoc's injuries. He supposed he could have stayed blind. Given the elder Elric brother a leg to stand on. But Ed didn't see it that way. He'd found his goal: Alphonse's body. Anything else was gravy.

"So, what brought you our way?"

Mustang remained standing while Al sat on the couch with a steaming cup in hand, "I'm going to use myself as bait for the terrorists."

"Again? You need me and Brother?"

"No. I need you two with the Fuehrer again. Even without alchemy, your brother is a skilled fighter. We can't take chances and I need Lieutenant-Colonel Armstrong with me."

Al's brow furrowed, "Are you trying to capture them or just get yourself killed...?"

"If I can put an end to them, I will - Amelie is the powerhouse now. She can stop this if I can't."

"General...brother won't like it any more than I do."

"I've already convinced Hawkeye. I'd have thought you two would be easy."

Al gave a soft smile, "How'd you convince the Captain?"

"She trusts Amelie."

"I'm sure the Captain already went over all the risks with you..."

"So I would appreciate it if you didn't reiterate them, thank you," Roy said quickly.

The younger alchemist only sipped at the tea. Roy watched him. Whether it was the years in that tin can that had done it or just personality, Al's face was so readable. Every emotion, every thought, played out over it in exaggerated form—at the moment, furrowed brows and a worried lip. In that respect, he and his brother were nothing alike. Other things though, Roy could see the similarities in. Their hair and eyes, their build...it was strange to think that they were almost the same height. Edward had grown and Alphonse had come back tall...they'd compared heights almost obsessively for the first month after the revival of Al's body. The young miss Rockbell had given up. She was, she loathed to admit, shorter than both of them if only by inches.

They'd all grown so much. He supposed he should've counted himself lucky. He was able to watch them grow and change. He hadn't been able to do the same for his little sister. A dull thud drew him from his reverie.

"She's your sister, isn't she?" Ed's voice came from behind, his flesh leg and a temporary wooden one causing the thud against the stairs.

Roy's eyes followed him while Edward walked the final few steps and leaned against the wall, arms crossed and brow furrowed. Miss Rockbell followed and looked between them. Al was a bit perplexed, too.

Roy sighed, "She is. I'm getting the distinct impression that you're mad at me for something."

"You knew all that time what she could do and you never once told us?"

Roy just stared at him. What could he say to that?

"An alchemist who can control souls? Did you ever think we might have some use for that information?" Ed continued with an exasperated scowl.

At Roy's blank stare, Al's eyes widened, "You didn't know..."

"I knew she could kill people by touching them. That's all I knew for a long time."

"You never thought to investigate how she might be able to do that?" Ed snapped.

Roy cocked an eyebrow, "Don't start."

"How could you not know?

"Not all younger siblings have such a loving elder, Fullmetal."

"I don't understand…" Winry spoke up timidly.

"Amelie is a fugitive; she's wanted for killing at least a half-dozen soldiers. I never went to her defense, nor tried to exonerate her. Not until now, at least. She was being used to perform alchemy under Bradley's regime. Knowing what I know now, I'm confident Congress will overturn her warrant."

"And yet she's still willing to help your sorry ass," Ed scoffed.

"Brother…" Al gave him a silencing glare.

"I didn't come here to spar, Fullmetal. I need your and Al's help to keep the Fuehrer safe between today and tomorrow. That's all."

The blonde man nodded and pushed off from the wall, "We're here. Might as well be useful."

The General gave a little smirk. Al rolled his eyes. Speaking of the plan and how small a part they had in it, Roy couldn't help but look back at Fullmetal more than once...

Had Ed gotten taller than him?

# _ #

Shieska knocked softly, almost hoping the dangerous alchemist wasn't truly there. The bolt unlocked and Shieska was left to see at a young, heavenly woman with long white hair and coal eyes. Catching herself staring, Shieska smiled, "I was sent to speak with you."

Miss Rochester nodded and stepped aside for her. Seeing the darkened room and the woman's stature, she suddenly felt a pang of guilt. She's seen her before. In one small picture that Hughes kept in his wallet. She wasn't even the main focus. He and General Mustang were young and dirty from play, and in the back was the white-hair that now was so recognizable. A childhood friend? Was that why Hughes had been so intent on helping her?

"So I'm told," she nervously closed the door and sat on the bed, "There's no record of my account of what happened to me, so I guess they want one."

"What are you supposed to tell me?"

Those black eyes looked down a bit, "Everything. If you don't want to, I'll understand."

Sitting down in a leather chair, Shieska offered a gentle smile and leaned in a bit, "If it's what General Hughes would've wanted, then I'll listen to everything."

 _"When I was first brought to Central, I was housed with an alchemist named Franklin Watz. He was a State Alchemist who was working with complex, multi-organism transmutations. For the first few months, he housed me and let me have access to every section of the Grande Library. My transmutations were small at first. Usually transmuting objects with reactive ingredients - sodium and water for example - while mitigating the natural violent reactions. Most days, the alchemist just let me play and try out different transmutations. He encouraged me to play more when he saw that I didn't need a transmutation circle. Using my mind, I could control a transmutation. He honed that ability. So, not only was I transmuting volatile compounds, I was doing it from afar without touching anything directly."_

 _"He told me I was special and that I would be meeting his colleagues. That they all wanted to meet me since I was so talented. He took me to the Third Laboratory and my first day there, he and his team asked if I could transmute something living with something else living. They gave me a toad and a turtle. I just imagined it in my mind and it happened. Both animals were in one. But it wasn't as though they were each their own animal, just conjoined, but they shared a brain, their habits and behaviors had merged to make something new. It wasn't a turtle-toad. It was a whole new species. Perfectly functioning without any visible deformity. They were all so impressed. So amazed at my skill. They cheered, saying they had found an answer. I didn't know to what for a long time."_

 _"I continued to study, to read. They allowed me to visit the laboratory any time and work on creating new species of animals by mixing two others. It seemed like such harmless fun. One General visited me more often than not. His name was a bird, something, Crow? Hawk? Raven? I don't remember. But he had a white mustache. He and Mr. Watz said that, if I did well in the coming year, I could meet the Fuehrer. I didn't really know anything about the man, but it sounded special. So, I did my best. I kept making more complex and more elaborate transmutations. They became bigger. Not just small animals, but huge ones. A lion and a crocodile for example. Mr. Watz said that only one other alchemist in the world had been able to do what I did, and that meant I was destined to do wonderful things. I believed him."_

 _"One day, Mr. Watz brought below the Third Laboratory. There were dark hallways with brightly lit rooms. Inside one, a round man with dreadlocks was asleep on a table. Someone brought in an amphibian of some kind - a toad or a salamander or whatnot - and said this man wanted to become a new kind of human. One who could look like a human, but decide to use the traits of the animal whenever he wanted. They asked if I could do it. I did. I did the transmutation. At first, it looked like nothing happened and they were worried, but then they woke the man up and he transformed. He still looked like a man, but also an animal. He went crazy, thrashing about, and they pulled me away. I remember being scared that I'd hurt him, but Watz said he was just surprised it worked. I really was so naive..."_

# _ #

Feeling his nerves scream, Ed clamped his jaw shut with determined eyes while Winry adjusted the port again. The unrelenting cold and new piece meant some of the joints weren't cooperating, the bits squeaking in protest as he tried to ignore it. She had finally had enough and decided to force him into letting her tinker. Eyes at the ceiling, he ignored the pain shooting from prosthetic to flesh the best he could.

"This should help," she said idly.

"Didn't happen last time," he hissed when she tightened the bolt on the inside of his leg, dangerously close to parts of him which could make him blush.

She shrugged, "I used a more flexible alloy this time. Had a feeling it might need some tightening. Besides, it's lighter, isn't it?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

She tightened the bolt another turn and his head shot back into the pillow, eyes clamping shut. Of all the bolts and pains, that was always the worst.

"Think you could not do that!" he hissed.

She gave an amused little smile, "Oh, don't be such a baby. It's not that bad."

While the pain ebbed away, he kept his eyes closed. Moving, breathing, made white flashes go off behind his eyelids. Even the thought of moving his toes made him groan. Whether she downplayed the pain to make him fight it, or just thought that much of him that he was putting on a show for sympathy, he didn't know. Either way, he was left in pain while she moved to another bolt against his thigh. Against the still-fresh pain of the inside bolt, the outer didn't hurt nearly at all. She turned it a bit, studied it, before turning it again. That last fraction of an inch made his jaw set up tight again. While he tried to push the pain down, he felt a cool cloth on over his brow and eyes. It helped. And every time he had to get adjustments on his automail, she'd give him the luxury of a wet cloth. The sweet water dripped and trailed down towards his ears, making him focus on that rather than the pain.

His jaw unclenched, he tentatively relaxed his fist and wiggled his toes. It didn't feel easy, but it was quicker to respond than it had been an hour ago. The pain would subside and he would have the same ease that his flesh foot received. For the moment, he was content that she had gotten the fix done and would now leave his metal parts alone. Thankful as he was for the tinkering, he hated the fact that he needed a wet cloth to hide the pain it caused.

"Do you really think Amelie can do what she says? Stop the transmutation?"

"I hope so. The way she made it sound, we're all done for if she can't."

"Would it be better if we all left Central?"

"She thinks it will go further than that."

Winry was silent for a moment, pulling the wet cloth from his forehead to his port and easing the tense muscles. He enjoyed the sensation of it when she moved her hands in soothing circles. He remained quiet, still looking towards the ceiling.

"How did you know she was his sister?"

Ed sighed, "Her transmutation when Mustang went down: it was the same one I made when Al sacrificed himself to give me my arm back. The fear that I'd lost him, the rage of it. I remember what that felt like. She felt the same way. When you feel that much pain, you tend to recognize it in other people."

"She must have been so scared."

"Scared? No, she was terrified. That's why she was so dangerous. I'd be lying if I said I blamed her, though."

"Why?"

He swallowed back trepidation, "If something ever happened to you, I'd probably be just as dangerous. Alchemy or not."

She met his eyes and hers had a brim of unshed tears at the bottom, "I feel the same."

# _ #

 _"I went back the next day and fused three more men with animals, and each of them were successful. Then, the scientists just said they would let me know what they needed. For a while, I didn't go back to the Third Laboratory. They said I could just relax and play, spend more time in the Grande Library. I didn't mind that, of course, but I wanted to do more. I remember sneaking in one evening, when Watz was heading in. I knew my way around enough, so I managed to stay out of sight. Then...I heard screaming. It was coming from the room where I'd done my transmutations months ago. I peeked in through the open door. They were...they were performing a transmutation on a man who was awake. And it was hurting him. They were putting him into a suit of armor. Taking his soul out of his body and attaching it to metal. He screamed, and begged, and pleaded while they did it. It was torture. They were torturing him using my techniques."_

 _"I panicked. I don't remember what happened, but when I came to, I was chained and held in a cage. Watz said I'd destroyed the whole wing of the lab, and had killed people. I still don't know if he was lying or not. I pray he was. I cried, I just wanted to go home to my family. And that's when they told me that if I tried to run away, they would kill my brother. My only real family. I know now that they had no idea who my brother was, but they just knew of him. So, they used him as a hostage against me. After that, they made me keep doing alchemy on people. Some, wanted it. Most didn't. Every time I tried to not do it, Watz had soldiers beat me. They would break my bones, give me black eyes and twisted ankles - sometimes they would just club me with their rifles. And if the beatings didn't work, Watz said they'd kill my brother. I always relented. I always did what they asked because I didn't want him to be hurt."_

 _"That went on for...I don't even know how long. They made me kill innocent people to help make hollow shells for creatures without a soul. They made me torture criminals and disloyal soldiers by ripping their souls from their bodies and putting them into animals and inanimate objects. Sometimes I just cooperated because I didn't want to be beaten. When I finally healed from one beating, and I refused, that's when they'd threaten my brother. It was never-ending. All I could do was cooperate."_

# _ #

Walking through the silver gleaming halls of Central Command, Roy diverted himself towards the head. The icy walk had refreshed him but with it, he felt the need to run warm water over his face and hands if just to reassure himself that he hadn't frozen. Speaking with the Elric's hadn't been hard; they were adults now and not the same children he'd found in Risembool so many years ago. And he was pretty damned sure that Edward was his height, maybe taller, now. Nevertheless, he would still be teased whenever Roy had the chance. Opening the door to the men's washroom, the steam of a running shower was a welcome respite from the chill in his bones. He pulled his uniform jacket off and hung it next to the basin, running tepid water over his hands to be collected and splashed against his frost-bit face. To the side, the shower turned off. Standing, he saw Havoc in the reflection of the mirror with a towel over his waist.

A scowl setting into place, Roy straightened and pulled his uniform jacket back on, "Lieutenant."

"Sir."

"Did you sleep in late?"

"No, sir. Wasn't at home this morning and didn't want to be tardy to the office."

"Always considerate."

"I try to be, sir."

They were quiet for a moment and Roy savored it. His uneasiness at Amelie's liaison still ate away at his civility. Yet, Riza had seen fit to reunite them last night. Havoc went about pulling on a fresh uniform. Like Roy, he no doubt had several stashed away in case of sudden changes in an otherwise busy schedule. When the Lieutenant appeared buttoning himself up in the mirror adjacent to him, Roy straightened.

"How was your evening at Madame's?"

Havoc didn't hesitate, "Pleasant."

Roy sighed, "I am...happy to hear that, Lieutenant."

With a slight nod, Jean gave a half-cocked smile, "Thank you, sir."

"I'll see you in the office."

With that, the taller man started off to the door and Roy continued to stare at himself in the mirror. Amelie had suffered enough because of him. Maybe this was the first step to letting her truly be free. Nevertheless, he sighed.

"Havoc."

The Lieutenant stopped and closed the door he'd only just begun to open and faced his commanding officer, "Sir?"

"If you plan on returning to Madame's, I would suggest using a lower means of transportation. Times being what they are, I wouldn't want any rumors to start."

Havoc nodded, "I appreciate you thinking of me, sir."

"Go on ahead. I'll meet you in the office."

Alone again for the moment, he stared at that visage in the mirror. The warm water had started to fog the glass. He looked down at it while it collected in the basin. _Useless when wet_ …No, now he was just useless. The handle he turned shut off the water decisively and he wiped his hands on the towel hanging nearby. Useless or not, he would make that bastard pay his fare.

Moving into the main office, everyone looked at him. Hawkeye, Breda, Fuery, Havoc, Armstrong - all there to help make this last-ditch plan work. He ushered them into his antechamber and sat. They filled the couches and the fire burning across the way was the best warmth he could muster in his aching joints.

"Here's what we've learned so far…"

# _ #

 _"One day, there was some sort of emergency. The soldiers that normally watched me didn't come. I transmuted my cage and chains and escaped. I got out most of the way before they saw I was missing. I didn't look back. I just kept running. I made it out of Central by hiding on train cars and transmuting crates and barrels around myself. I didn't stay on the train long. I didn't want to go too far without my brother. I remember hiding in an abandoned shack, camping out there. A week went by and I thought it would be safe enough to go back and look for him."_

 _"I was wrong. One night, they barged in. Not Watz but another alchemist I'd seen at the Third Laboratory before. He said I would be brought back to do more alchemy, that I was just a monster and that's all I was good for. I didn't want to go back and hurt people. I made the decision to use my alchemy on them. The alchemist escaped, but I killed seven soldiers who'd been with him to detain me. It was the first time I used my alchemy like that. Taking a soul from a body without putting it somewhere else. It was terrifying. Those souls felt like warm knives when they went through me and when I was done, their bodies were disfigured. I'd killed them all. I don't know where the alchemist went, but I didn't stay there. I went to search for my brother."_

 _"When I found him, he was unharmed. He was in the very military which had beaten and tormented me. I don't think he ever knew what happened down there. When I tried to get him to desert, he threatened to turn me in. He hated me. Deep down, I think he still does because of what I did to those men. I don't blame him for that. I did what I had to. I fled to other countries. What those alchemists were doing was unholy, irreverent to the natural order. They could've killed hundreds, maybe thousands more if I'd stayed. So when I heard that they attempted a coup d'etat and tried to destroy the country, I made my way back to see if I could help. And now, these terrorists are doing almost the same thing. Destroying lives. I want to protect my brother, these people. None of them deserve to go through what I did."_

Shieska reached across the space between her and the young woman and took her hand. Another tear fell to that ivory skin. Having heard more than she ever thought she would, Shieska filed it away and tried to focus on the pained alchemist in front of her: a victim. Amelie wiped the salty tears from her cheeks with her other hand.

"Brigadier General Hughes...he was your brother?" Shieska asked timidly.

Amelie looked at her and gave a soft smile, "No, but he might as well have been. He believed in me when my own brother didn't."

"Is your brother...?" Shieska didn't dare say the name. It all made sense now. Those black eyes, the alchemy talent...the small picture in Hughes' wallet...

"I can't answer that."

"I'm sorry, I just, I never knew."

She gave a sympathetic smile, "I've told you most everything I can about the military. I'm sure it's more than you bargained for."

"I'm glad you did. I'm honored that I have a chance to help Brigadier General Hughes."

"I can tell you what I know about the terrorists, too."

They both heard a small knock at the door and Vanessa spoke, "It's lunch time, ladies."

The door opened and Vanessa walked in with a small tray full of finger sandwiches, tea, and soups. The desk turned into a makeshift table. Wiping her hands off, Vanessa looked to her, "And, Ms. Shieska, you have a phone call."

Shieska stood, looking down at Amelie Rochester. The Soul Alchemist. A victim and someone who was terribly loved, "I'll take this. Then we can eat lunch and go on."

Amelie nodded with a gentle smile, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For listening."

Unsure of what exactly to say to that, she nodded, "I'll be right back."

# _ #

 _The land was barren, a wasteland, something that should have been luscious and green. But it had died, scars and scorches zigzagging across umber soil. The skeletons of trees and buildings loomed far off. Wind tore at his black coat and made the lapels of it slap against his cheek._

 _"Brother...where are we?"_

 _Roy only shook his head, "I don't know."_

 _"What happened? This was supposed to be Central," Riza questioned._

 _"They're all just gone. It's all vanished."_

 _Roy couldn't disagree with his sister's statement, awed and fearful in its accuracy. His black eyes only scanned the horizon to search for any life that could have survived. His gaze noticed a figure by one of the gnarled trees, white against a sepia sky. White face, white body, white everything._

 _He looked at It, black eyes piercing the white facade. His brow furrowed, "Truth?"_

 _No answer. No eyes. It's hand raised, palm up, as if It was trying to take his hand. Both Riza and his sister stayed behind him, unsure._

 _"Did you do this?" he asked._

 _Amelie and Riza screamed. Roy spun around to see the very ground they'd been standing on crumble, fall away. Both their eyes went wide, both fell quicker than reflexes could account for. Both managed to grab the edge of the cliff that had quickly shown their true height above an abyss below._

 _Who was he supposed to help?_

 _Amelie was still physically weaker than most and Riza didn't have the leverage to haul herself over the ledge. He was frozen in place; two pairs of eyes, black and brown, looked to him for help. The loose dirt wasn't giving them any purchase as they slid farther towards death. Still, he couldn't move. His voice wouldn't say anything._

 _He ran, skidding down onto his belly to reach for one as they both fell. A gloved hand grasped tightly the hand he'd reached for and he watched the second pair of eyes flash through every conceivable emotion before they fell from sight. Gratitude, betrayal, fear and solace. Even as they fell, his voice never issued from his throat._

 _Those eyes fell away into darkness._

# _ #

Roy shot up, chest heaving. His antechamber was quiet, the fire the only noise. His soldiers were working, planning. He'd somehow drifted off in his chair. A cold sweat clung to his brow. Taking a moment to let his heart slow, he reached for the phone. He dialed from memory and let it ring.

" _Madame's Hostel."_

"Yes, I need to speak with someone who owes me money."

 _"Perfect timing. They were just about to be served some lunch - Vanessa! Tell the one with glasses she's got a phone call! No problem darling, just hold for a moment, would'ya?"_

"Of course."

Roy turned his attention and his chair to the view outside. The midday sun was reflecting off the white snow and making everything seem brighter than he supposed it should be. He could hear murmurs on the other end of the line and the clatter of the headset before it was picked up and a familiar voice answered.

"I was just calling to make sure your assignment is going well?"

" _Oh, yes. Very well."_

"Have you had any issues? Do you feel safe?"

 _"Very much so. Vanessa has been treating me quite well. I'm extremely grateful to be here, let me tell you!"_

Roy smiled - Shieska could take instruction well, that was for sure. Madame had likely given her some clue as how to talk on an unsecured line and that girl played the card to a tee, "Wonderful. Take all the time you need to have a good experience. I was just calling to make sure you hadn't run into any difficulties."

 _"None at all!"_

"Excellent news. Carry on then. Don't let me hold you up. Just make sure everyone keeps up their strength and takes time to rest, ok?"

" _I'll make sure of it."_

And with that, the phone was dead. He gingerly placed the handset back on the receiver, but his hand lingered. Riza and Amelie had both been on that cliff and he couldn't say whom he'd dove to rescue…


	14. Interference

**Interference**

Someone knocked on Roy's door and he straightened. His Captain opened the door and stood at attention; a young man stood just behind her and in her voice Roy could hear plain annoyance.

"Mister Roberson from Congress is here to see you, sir."

Unexpected but not surprising. With the formal tomorrow night, there were bound to be some matters which needed attention. He nodded and Hawkeye stepped aside. The young man was the same redhead who'd been less-than-thrilled at the recent, permanent promotion. He'd been there at Congress, same glasses and all. Hawkeye closed the doors pointedly to leave them in peace. Not recalling the man's first name mostly because no such civility hadn't been given at their last encounter, Roy remained seated and let the lingering silence cause the man to shift uncomfortably.

"General, some expenditures which need your approval for the formal. Some of the last-minute requests by your aide have exceeded the approved budget," he held up a plain manila folder and placed it on Roy's desk.

"If Captain Hawkeye requested it, why do I need to approve it?"

"The funds come directly from the State Alchemist program allocations. Since you're in charge of it, you need to approve it."

Roy opened the folder and glanced at the invoice. Ordinary sundries which he knew would be useful come an altercation, but which didn't arouse suspicion. At the bottom of the invoice, the man's full name appeared. Brow furrowed, Roy looked back at the young man.

He sighed, "Is there an issue, General?"

"Why such disdain for alchemists, Nathaniel?"

If the question caught the young man off guard, he was quick to rebound, "Alchemists think they're above the law. You use the pretenses of research or innovation to commit murder."

"It's strange: I met a young woman about your age just recently that held the same opinion. Looked like you as well," he went back to the invoice but could see in his peripheral vision the young man was taking a step closer, "No, matter," he signed the document and nonchalantly closed the folder before holding it out to him.

Nathaniel was standing at rapt attention, ignoring the folder, "A young woman? Did she have curly hair?"

Mustang feigned indifference, "Hm? Oh, yes, I believe so. Thank you for your diligence, Mr. Roberson," he handed off the folder and sat back down at his desk, busying himself with inconsequential paperwork. Looking over the desk, Nathaniel was still standing with the folder in his arms, eyes downcast. Roy sighed and diverted his attention to the paperwork once more, "Is there something else, Mr. Roberson?"

"Why did you stay on as a State Alchemist after Ishbal?"

Roy never put his pen down and didn't give the man the courtesy of eye contact, "Many reasons. Why?"

"You were called a hero for murdering people. What reason could keep you comfortable with that moniker?"

At that, Roy placed the pen down slowly and finally looked the younger man in the eyes, "If you have something relevant to say, speak your piece. Otherwise, my staff will be happy to escort you out."

"What reasons made you stay in the military? That's all I want to know, General."

"If you truly must know, I have loved ones whom I need to protect and the best way to accomplish that is by serving this country. Why the sudden interest?"

Nathaniel shuffled his weight between his feet and sighed, "Curiosity, I suppose."

Roy stood to his full height, "I answered your question. So, perhaps you'll indulge one of mine."

The young man nodded and met Roy's gaze.

"What made you have such strong opinions on alchemists?"

"My aunt and cousin were killed by a State Alchemist. My aunt mysteriously disappeared, and a few years later her husband killed their daughter in the name of research. After that, we found out she'd died the same way."

Roy stared at the man blankly for a minute before his mind caught up and assembled the pieces of the puzzle, "Your cousin - her name was Nina, wasn't it?"

He said nothing for a long moment, just nodded. Roy couldn't find words to convey his sympathies. Neither spoke and the air was heavy with their silence.

"The woman you spoke to - who you said looked like me - do you remember her name?"

"I don't. I apologize. Why?"

"No reason, sir. Just curious."

Roy sat back down but kept his gaze on the man, "Thank you for your help with the formal."

Nathaniel nodded and slowly walked from the antechamber. When he opened the door, Roy could see Hawkeye right there, patiently waiting. He left and Hawkeye came in, closing the door behind her.

"An issue, sir?"

"Naomi mentioned she had a brother. I believe that's him."

"What does that mean for us?"

"Nothing at the moment, but interesting nonetheless."

"I was going to step out for lunch to the mess hall. I seemed to have forgotten it this morning."

Roy smiled, "Lunch does sound good. May I join you, Captain?"

A soft, barely noticeable smile and she nodded, "Of course, sir."

* * *

Naomi couldn't rest. Her mind was running in circles, begging questions be answered. What if Amelie couldn't stop the transmutation? What if Roderick suspected something? Worse, what if the General planned to go after her or her brother to get some more upper hand? The white-haired woman said Roderick's alchemy could kill, but what if she was lying just to gain cooperation? Was there even any alchemy? She'd seen the map of the Grande Library. There were no signs, no sigils. Nothing to betray anything but what Roderick had claimed was a divine power given to him to cull the alchemists of this country.

The only reason she'd jeopardized herself was because of her brother...if she knew he was safe, would she do things different? She'd joined the Republic out of grief and anger but now, all she felt was the cold tingle of fear. She didn't want to lose her brother. No matter what else happened, she couldn't tolerate that thought.

She stood, decidedly opening her door and walking down the narrow corridor to Roderick's room. Her heart was thundering in her chest when she knocked on his door. His gentle voice bidding her entry made her stomach jump into her throat. He looked up from his tattered notebook and gave a gentle smile

"Naomi, are you all right? I wanted you to rest...?"

She looked at the box of her boots, "I need to confess something, Roderick."

He put his pen down and turned in the chair to face her, his brow slightly furrowed, "You can tell me anything. What's wrong?" he gently asked, leaning forward into their conversation and gesturing to the chair adjacent to him.

She sat, "I have a brother," she blurted out.

He smiled, "How is that a confession? Many of us have families beyond the Republic."

"I just want to be sure that, when we go after alchemists, we're not targeting civilians. My brother is my only family. He's not an alchemist, but I don't think he'd be sympathetic to us, either."

"Have you told him about your involvement?"

"I haven't spoken to him in two years."

"So why tell me?"

"I wanted...well I wanted permission to see him; not to talk about the Republic, but to see if he'd leave Central all together. Just so I could continue on and help you without worrying."

Roderick reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder, "I trust you. If you think you can meet with him without giving away your involvement, then of course go see him. Do you know where he is?"

"I have a good hunch."

"You'd like to go now, I'd imagine."

"Yes, I'll be back as soon as I'm finished."

"That's fine, Naomi. I think this will help you, which means it will help the Republic."

She stood and offered a smile, "Thank you. For understanding."

"Family is always important."

With the slightest nod of acknowledgement, she stepped from his room and strode to the tunnel access across the compound. Below the catwalk were the tables of supplies. Guns. Ammunition. Raw ingredients for bombs. Destruction waiting to be inflicted. All things she had helped manifest. Roderick was the mastermind but she had no delusions as to who kept everything organized, who tallied their roster and supplies.

Above ground, the late day sun and brisk air were enough to make her heart stop beating so furiously. The pit in her stomach was beginning to fill with confidence. No matter if the Soul Alchemist was lying or not, her brother would be safe.

She had some inkling where her brother would be. He'd always been a fan of libraries and that was exactly what worried her. If he was there when Roderick started his transmutation (if it even was such a thing), there would be no chance to escape. There were several libraries in Central, but the Grande Library had been their favorite to visit.

Climbing the icy steps and pushing past the ornate wood doors, she made her way from the atrium to the back of the main floor. The main stairway led up to the mezzanine and from there she scouted the aisles of the lower level. Sure enough, across the way in the medical section was that familiar auburn hair. Books were strewn about. Like her, the idea that her cousin could have been saved with traditional medicine was, admittedly, far-fetched but, still an idea that consumed them.

She meandered down the stairs again and made her way to the table where he sat. Not saying a word, she sat across from him and, when he looked up at the intrusion, he gaped.

"Naomi? Wha-where have you been? What are you doing here?"

She offered a meek smile, "I'm here now. How've you been?"

"That's what you say? It's been two years!"

"I know. I just...we both had to deal with it in our own way. I didn't find you so I could start a fight. Please, just hear me out."

He crossed his arms and leaned back away from the table and his jaw set tight. She didn't know what she expected, but at least he was willing to listen. "You should leave Central. Just for a week or so. I think something bad is coming. Something worse than that coup last year."

"What makes you think that?"

"I don't know. But please, just trust me on this."

"You come back and suddenly you expect me to just leave town because you have some sort of bad feeling? You know how ridiculous that sounds, right? I have a job. I'm finally in some kind of position to make a difference in this country and you want me to jeopardize that?"

"Brother, please."

He stood and his shoulders dropped with a heavy sigh, "I can't, Naomi. I'm sorry."

He started to leave the table and she stood, reaching across it to take his hand, "If you're not willing to leave, then just promise me you'll stay home these next few nights. Just stay safe at home. Please."

Those eyes met hers and he nodded, "Fine. But I expect an explanation at some point."

"After this week, I can do that. Thank you."

"Just like that? You're off again? Where are you going when you leave here?"

She sighed, "I don't know. Might just walk around to clear my head. I would love it if you, y'know, joined me?"

"Fine. I've got nothing else to really do."

He sorted the books back to their shelves while she stood clear of him and the thick tension his body language was emitting. Being gone for these past two years had made her nervous about a reunion, but at least it wasn't her worst nightmare. She hadn't left on the best terms. After the military police had come to tell them about the news, she'd taken off. Their aunt and cousin were their only family left in the world, and to hear they'd both been killed... It was closure of the worst kind.

* * *

He'd always spent Solstice with at least ten people. His foster-mother, Maes, Amelie, and his foster sisters. Madame Chris Mustang made the Solstice her biggest event of the year and naturally, Roy and Maes had to help. Maes' family didn't celebrate, but they had no issue with their son leaving for a few days to take part in the festivities at the Mustang residence. They'd both get in fights with the girls, wrap presents in shifts, and take turns gathering firewood. The efforts all lead to a wonderful feast and a bountiful haul for each of them.

The last Solstice he'd felt happy about had been almost fifteen years ago.

His first Solstice away from his family, he'd joined the military and dealt with training camp.

His second Solstice away from his family, Amelie had been deemed a fugitive and he'd been shipped to Ishbal.

His third Solstice away from his family, Maes' had been on his honeymoon with Gracia.

His fourth Solstice away from his family, he'd gone home to an empty house and was told the Mustang girls had all been shipped to different homes. Madame herself hadn't the money to afford the mansion and instead had opened her hostel in Central.

His fifth Solstice away from his family, he'd tried to visit Madame, but she'd been terribly ill. He'd spent a full week in the hospital with her.

His sixth Solstice away from his family, Maes had invited him to a party at his new flat. Roy hadn't been able to go because of military duties.

His seventh Solstice away from his family, he'd been shipped to East City and wasn't able to attend the repeat Hughes' party.

The list went on, but Roy was sure each of the last fourteen Solstices had been cut short on joy because of worn circumstances. Family, friends, even relatives, had all tried to get together but life had gotten in the way. And, just when he thought things might get better and he'd be able to spend a Solstice with at least some semblance of family, Maes was killed. While it had been months before the holiday, Roy knew he wouldn't be able to celebrate. Not when his childhood friend of twenty years had been killed and wasn't able to spend his time with those he wanted.

So it really wasn't any wonder that he had grown to ignore the cold, useless holiday that marked the beginning of colder, lonelier weather.

He walked along brisk streets and looked at the stores that dotted the view. Gifts, bows, shiny presents. Homemade baked goods wafted sweet, enticing aromas past his nose and he longed for the loud and raucous kitchen that Madame had dealt with while baking. But he didn't bother looking up. He would be at the formal, fighting an uphill battle, and then retire home before facing a slew of problems the following morning. Just as the past fifteen years had preluded, this Solstice wasn't about to be much more cheerful.

His home wasn't even decorated. No pine boughs, no bows. Not even lights. It wasn't that he despised them, it was just as simple as no one would ever see them - even if he hadn't been in a life-and-death fight for the past week, he doubted they would've made an appearance. He took some pleasure in looking at the décor of other homes, but he would never invest in that for his own house. It just...didn't feel right.

The key to his door shivered a bit when the wind picked up. Late afternoon and still the chill got to him. Maybe it was the knowledge that he couldn't use fire that made the cold harsher than it should've been. The sun hadn't even gone down yet, but everyone was heading home early since most departments were closed for the holiday tomorrow. They wanted to start their deserved time off as soon as possible.

There would be no time off for him. Nor for his team. He would sit in agonized limbo until tomorrow evening, going about his day as though he wasn't facing a threat with only his sister to guarantee some small chance of victory. The office would be closed, their team seemingly apart and alone. He'd arranged for one small meeting, just close enough to the formal that he could justify everyone being there. That would be his first and last chance to set everything in motion.

In the foyer, he hung his coat and walked over to the fireplace. It was dank and he'd forgotten to close the flue the night before. The cold air sank into his home like a specter. He adjusted the kindling and pulled a log onto it, striking a match and lighting some rolled papers from yesterday's news. It didn't take long for the fire to thrive. Still, the chill encroached on the warming air.

* * *

The last bit of sunlight was streaming through the windows. Shieska had listened and shed tears all day. Beyond the horrific alchemy, Amelie's time was peppered with assault. Vicious mind games. Even after she escaped, there was no security. Some moments of shining normalcy, but even with that it was still the life of a fugitive. Except for an hour alone at Amelie's request, they'd been at it all day. Shieska felt as though she'd absorbed every nuance of her story, but still couldn't fathom that there was possibly more beyond the relevant information.

Again, she reached over and took her hand, "Thank you."

Amelie smiled, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, "I think I should be thanking you. Just talking about it...it helps."

"I can't imagine. But you're safe now. I don't think anyone will let you suffer again."

"No one can say, can they?"

She didn't know what to say to that. There was some kind of sepulchral certainty in her voice. Pulling back, she cleared her throat and offered a meek smile, "I do have to get back, but can I have them get you anything?"

Amelie shook her head, "No, thank you."

"Well...I hope I get to see you again. Really, I do."

There was a genuine smile on her face this time and some warmth in her icy complexion, "Feeling is mutual. Thank you, Shieska."

Taking her leave and meandering down the stairs, she almost missed Vanessa meeting her at the volute. The young woman had been a companion all day, making sure the charade was upheld and they were fed.

"Are you ok, lovely?"

"Oh, yes. I just...it's a lot to take in."

"She hasn't had an easy life. Hopefully we can make it up to her. Here, I'll walk you out."

They hooked elbows and Shieska buckled up her coat when the door was opened. Vanessa gave her a quick peck on the cheek and suddenly the cold outside wasn't so miserable. The sky was bright red and purple, puffy clouds dotting the skyline. She kept her coat shrugged up by her ears and made her way through the snow. Looking to her feet, she ran imagined scenes behind her eyes and still didn't think she quite understood all that Amelie had endured.

She'd moved out of her mother's home a few months back now that her health was better, and being on her own had been liberating, but deep down that security was unmistakable. She knew where her mother was, who she could go to if things were overwhelming. But with this, she couldn't involve her mother. It was top secret and she alone now held all of this knowledge. Still, seeing her mother and enjoying that warm, welcoming love would be a better way to unwind after a taxing day.

"Hey, Shieska," a masculine voice said cordially.

She looked up and saw Jean Havoc. He had a small paper bag and she could smell the fresh baked goods inside it; he was still in his military issued overcoat but his goatee looked freshly trimmed and she could smell fresh cologne, "Oh, hi! Where are you off to?"

He grinned, "Going to surprise a lady with some dinner."

A little jump in her mind and Shieska felt even warmer on the inside. Perhaps Amelie could have a happier life going forward, especially with a gentleman like the Lieutenant courting her, "That's incredibly sweet of you. I'm sure she'll love it."

"Let's hope. Anyways, I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"Have a good night, Lieutenant."

"You too."

She walked on, looking over her shoulder once to see him jaunt through the very path she'd created in the snow. If she was in the company of Havoc, Shieska's suspicions about Amelie's family were all but confirmed. Hughes might have treated her like a sister, but it was General Mustang who could claim that family tie. A contented little smile found it's way onto her face and she couldn't help but keep it there the entire walk home.

* * *

The street lamps had come on just recently, and Naomi and her brother were still awkwardly talking about the past two years. He spoke of how he'd become an adjutant for the Fuehrer and had thus been able to keep tabs on everything the state alchemist program had been doing since the attempted coup. With Mustang at the helm, the focus had shifted to more than just military. He'd created a medical branch, an engineering branch, even a restorative branch which had been dispatched to the Ishbalan region of the country to rebuild the area. Admirable, Naomi had to admit. Something surprising coming from the Hero of Ishbal.

A glinting of metal caught her eye. Ahead, she saw one of Mustang's men walking with a paper satchel. She recalled he was one with whom Amelie had traveled several times since she'd kept tabs on them. But the glinting of metal wasn't the military man. It was one of her own in the shadows on the top of the building, above the pools of lamplight in the street. The orders for Amelie were still to shoot on sight. If someone had gotten a view on her, they would kill her without hesitation.

"I have to go," she said suddenly.

Nathaniel spun to look at her, "No, you can't just run off again!"

"I'll be back, but I have to take care of something. Please..."

"You're really pushing this whole brotherly love thing to a breaking point, you know that, right?" he gave an exasperated sigh.

"I know, but thank you," she ran off into the darkness of an alleyway.

She climbed a fire escape and quickly crossed the rooftop out of sight from her brother. She could see her brethren. Coming up next to him in complete silence, he acknowledged her with nothing more than a nod. He motioned to the passing military man and Naomi followed his gaze to see the man enter a hostel. She knew he had a flat of his own across town, so there was only one reason he'd be going to some other place to sleep. Her heart was thundering once more and she swore the man next to her could hear it.

She held her hand out for his firearm and motioned for him to stay behind. It was no secret that she was one of the best shots in the Republic and more often than not was in charge when Roderick wasn't directly present. The man nodded. She tucked the pistol in her coat and made her way to the street level. The windows were heavily tinted and she couldn't see anyone on the other side. Still, being a hostel, she didn't believe anyone would think twice if she just walked in. Not to mention, the soldier had no idea who she was. Taking a steadying inhale and letting her shoulders relax with the exhale, she strode in with all the casual indifference a patron would exhibit.

Behind the counter was an elderly woman with deep lines on her face and a cigarette in her mouth. Her stole was immaculate, but she reeked of smoke. She smiled and gestured to the bar. Naomi sat on the stool and offered a soft smile.

"What can I do for you, darling?"

"Just need a room for the night."

"You want a meal first before you turn in?"

She shook her head, "No, thank you. Just the room. How much?"

"1900 cenz."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out bills and some coins, laying it on the counter. The woman called out to the side and a young woman with brown hair came forward from the hallway, "Just follow her, she'll show you to your room."

The walk to the room, Naomi was eyeing every hallway. The young woman escorted her to the third floor and left her with the pleasantry of available room service. The moment the door was closed, Naomi put her ear to the door and listened for the retreating footsteps on the wooden floorboards. There didn't seem to be more than a dozen rooms in the whole place, and only the second floor was without windows in the hallway. If she were to hide a fugitive, that would be where she did it.

She sat on the bed for a long moment, the gun in her jacket weighing it down. She swallowed hard and bent over, hands on her head. What was she doing...? In a fury, she stood and crept from her room to slowly make her way down the stairwell to the lower level. Her footsteps she placed with caution to avoid creaking boards. Moving past the first room and pausing at the threshold of the door, she heard no movement nor voices inside. The next room was empty as well. The third, she heard voices.

The female's voice she'd recognize anywhere now. It reverberated in her memory from the alchemy used on her. She pulled her pistol and pressed herself against the door frame while she quietly cocked the hammer. It would be loud and she knew that once she fired she would be left with the soldier to deal with. No doubt armed, she would only have one chance to get it right before he retaliated.

Her brother was safe, and that was all that mattered to her now.

Stepping back, she threw all of her weight behind one solid kick right underneath the knob and forced the door off its hinges.

Seeing Amelie, she fired.

* * *

Riza was packing up her bag. She and Kain were the last in the office; the others had gone their separate ways earlier than normal, either to home or to enjoy other plans for the evening. While the day had been uneventful, she knew it was the calm before the storm. Roderick's plan was going into motion tomorrow evening and that meant there was no assurance what the following day would hold in store for them. Amelie was strong and talented, but there were so many variables they had to take into account. They still didn't know what would signal the beginning of the transmutation and then if Amelie would have enough time to control and extinguish it.

She looked to Kain and bid him goodnight. The younger man wasn't on the radar of any terrorists since he'd hardly left the office this past week and so she didn't see a need to escort him home. He'd been constantly checking radio chatter and giving them anything that might've been a clue to the endgame. The General should've had one, but had insisted on being alone. Solstice was hard for him and had been as long as she'd known him.

Hayate in step with her, she held her bag on her shoulder and walked on. No sooner had she turned the corner did she hear Kain's voice calling after her.

"Captain! It's Havoc!"

Her heart dropped into her stomach and she ran back with Kain to the office. The phone was off the receiver and she urgently picked it up, "Lieutenant?"

" _Shit! Riza, she's shot. Damn it! You have to call Roy. C'mon, c'mon! You tell Roy to stay put, he needs to stay put. Don't let him - it's not going to make a difference - fuck! No, dammit, no dammit! She's gone, Riza! Just fucki-"_

The line went dead after a loud blast and she held the receiver to her shoulder. He'd been out of breath, his words coming in punctuated breaths like he'd been trying to pump life back into a lifeless body and the last sound to her ears had been a gunshot. She pressed down the receiver and let it open the line again. She dialed. The phone rang and she couldn't stop looking ahead at the scene she imagined in her mind. A second ring. She had to be sure of what she said; she had to not second guess her knowledge of Jean. She needed her mind to settle from the initial shock.

" _This is Mustang_ ," his voice was calm, poised.

She swallowed hard, "I just received a call from Jean. She's been killed, sir," at the dead air, she continued pointedly, "Jean says you need to stay home. There's nothing more to be done for her."

Another long and heavy silence, " _Understood,_ " his steady voice intoned before the call was disconnected.

She put the receiver down. Kain stepped closer to her and lowered his voice, "Captain?"

"I hope I'm right, Fuery. I hope I'm right."

"I don't follow..."

"It's something we've done before. We don't say ranks. We just use names. It means the news isn't entirely accurate."

"Why?"

"We think Roderick will be more bold if he believes Amelie to be out of the picture. We were trying to figure out how to accomplish that..."

"You think that's what this was?"

"I hope so."

Her hand still on the receiver, she let out a shaky exhale. Hiyate sat on her feet, nuzzling her calf. All she could see was a bloody scene, her instinct somehow wrong and Jean and Amelie dead in a puddle on the floor.

* * *

His hands visibly trembling, Roy sat down in his wingback chair in front of the fireplace. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and fingers steepled together as he thought of how to spin the news. If Havoc had called and not Madame, that made him feel better. Madame would've been the one to call if it were true - she knew how to reach him directly and wouldn't have bothered getting Hawkeye involved. The news was meant to be heard by someone other than the military. By someone who could relay the message back to Roderick and say the main hurdle to tomorrow's plan was now out of the picture.

But what if he and Hawkeye were both wrong?

He moved to the kitchen and opened his cabinet that held an aged bottle of scotch which he pulled out on occasion. He poured it into a clear tumbler, bringing it to his lips and feeling the warmth steel him from the fear in his gut. He wanted more information. He wanted to see Amelie and know she was safe. He was so close to exonerating her. She'd spent so long hidden away and relatively safe and now he'd put her in the crosshairs of a madman. If she had been killed, their plans for tomorrow were all but futile.

There was a frantic knock on his door.

* * *

Pounding on his door made him spring out of bed. It wasn't late, but still later than most would disturb him. Crossing the modest room to greet whomever was on the other side, he stood there looking at Odane. The same young man who'd brought news of Naomi's initial disappearance was again at his threshold. This time, the man wore a wide smile that was stark white against his dark skin. Below, in the tunnel junctions, were uproars of enthused shouts and clapping.

"What's going on?" Roderick asked, mildly confused but his alarm dwindling.

"Naomi killed the white-haired alchemist and one of Mustang's men!"

Roderick's eyes were wide, and when Odane went back towards the celebration, he followed. Naomi was among the crowd, a bit bloody but nonetheless unfazed and unharmed. His people gave him a wide berth and he stood there, watching her smile at them all. She was lighter than she'd been when she'd left earlier and, no matter how she'd come across their opponent, he found himself suddenly relieved. That was it. There would be no chance of Mustang recovering from another blow, another fatal wound. The Flame Alchemist would truly be helpless.


	15. Redux

**Redux**

The white rushed up to meet her. Gasping, coughing, she could make out the feet of Truth only inches from her. She pushed herself to her knees and cradled her head while the pain passed.

She'd lost count. How many attempts was this? How many theoretical transmutations and failures? The pain began to ebb and she met Truth's nonexistent eyes. It didn't smile.

"You're trying the impossible."

"There has to be a counter-transmutation that'll work."

"Death is your life."

She lowered her eyes. Her alchemy, powerful as it was, had to be meant for more than killing. She was working half-blind. She didn't know the exact alchemical symbols Roderick was using. She didn't know how he'd arranged the little she had gleaned from Naomi. She couldn't even say for sure just how his transmutation would be activated. Without his knowledge, she was more than half-blind. Blind with three limbs tied behind her back more like.

Looking back to Truth, she exhaled, "Again. I need to try again."

There was no word spoken, no toothy grin, when the Gate opened and the black tendrils of the void reached for her.

* * *

Her pace was faster than normal. The deserted hallways let her hear the echoes of her own footsteps all the more clearly. Non-essential personnel were off for the holiday. The result was an eerie sense of emptiness in Central Command. Even with the holiday and her early arrival, Hawkeye still hoped she'd find two others in the General's office. With Black Hayate in step, she unlocked the office doors only to quickly lock them behind her again. Finally, she was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Warm firelight danced under the doorway of the General's antechamber. Opening the door softly, she saw Jean Havoc on the couch. Amelie was lost in a transmutation by the fireplace. The Lieutenant stirred when Hayate licked his relaxed hand. His apologetic smile when he woke made her finally feel at ease. Without preamble, she looked to Amelie.

Jean sat up, "She's been at it since we got here."

"At what?"

"Trying to figure out Roderick's transmutation, I guess."

"Well, I'm just relieved to see I wasn't mistaken at your message," she allowed herself to smile; Havoc returned it before gazing back at Amelie, "What the hell happened last night?"

He only sighed.

* * *

 _Nathaniel watched his sister run off into an alleyway. She was nimble, easily climbing up a fire escape to a rooftop which he couldn't see except for the small curve of her head over the fencing. He tried to stay in the street just behind her. Her movement stalled for a second and he could vaguely make out the silhouette of another individual up on the roof with her. Again, there was motion. She was down on street level once more. He stayed around the corner and peered out to see her. She entered the building without any pretense. He inhaled deeply and waited for a few moments before going in himself._

 _The musty lounge was smoke-filled. The woman behind the bar gave a practiced smile and he simply pointed up the stairs, hoping she wouldn't have any questions. He stayed on the first landing for a moment. What was she doing...?_

 _In the two years since she'd disappeared, he'd wondered where she'd directed her time. Wondered what she'd been getting herself into. Seeing her motions, the weapon, his mind suddenly was going in all different directions. Was she a part of the Republic? A terrorist who was responsible for the destruction on the city? He knew she'd been close with Nina, but even he had never thought about doing something so drastic._

 _When he heard footsteps coming back down the stairs, he dashed to the end of the hall. A young brunette sauntered down. His heart was hammering behind his ribs and he felt a pit in his stomach. Why would his sister come to a hostel and do so on rooftops? What was she after?_

 _Another set of footsteps softly hit the stairs. Peering around the corner, he watched his sister creep down the halls on the balls of her feet. She checked two doors before stopping at a third. He saw a gun, and she took a step back from the door before kicking it in. The gunshot made him run into the room - he crossed the threshold just as a second round fired off._

 _His sister had the gun aimed at the mattress and the two occupants were startled but unharmed. She spun and aimed the gun at him and he put his hands up to calm her down. She was breathing heavy and she seemed just as confused as he was._

 _"We don't have a lot of time," the white-haired woman said, breathless._

 _Naomi looked back at her, "No, we don't. I think we can make Roderick take risks. If he thinks you're dead, we'll be fine."_

 _The military officer nodded, "Maybe some warning next time?"_

 _"One of my men is watching. I couldn't take the chance," she spun to look at him again, "You need to run out and go to General Mustang. You can diffuse this."_

 _"What?"_

 _"Just run, make sure they know downstairs that everything is fine and then run out!" at his gaping mouth, she pushed him, "Just go!"_

 _He ran._

* * *

 _Jean had about damn near had a heart attack. The door had busted in and his first reaction was to shield Amelie. The two shots had gone harmlessly into the mattress. Amelie had intervened, keeping him from drawing his own sidearm, but now they were left with the red-haired woman after the red-haired man had run. She'd briefly mentioned this woman, that she was an ally who'd come from Roderick's side to join them, the night before._

 _"Is there another way out of here for you two?" the woman, Naomi, asked._

 _Jean nodded, "There is. Back door into the tunnels."_

 _"Then take that. I have to go back and pretend you two are dead."_

 _"Will you be safe?" Amelie asked._

 _"Our orders were to shoot on sight so it shouldn't raise suspicion."_

 _"What if the lines are tapped?" Jean interjected._

 _"Then we need to make it sound convincing, too."_

 _"I'll call Hawkeye. When I give you the signal, you fire another round. Got it?"_

 _Naomi nodded and Jean took some sharp breaths before picking up the phone. His frantic, fake call ended in a punctuated shot and he let the receiver drop onto the floor. He could only hope the Captain understood. Naomi quickly cut herself to show some blood for the farce. He looked between the two women and ushered Amelie down the stairs with Naomi right behind him. Madame quickly guided them to the back door while Naomi ran out the front._

 _There wasn't time to say a farewell. In the frigid tunnels, he finally felt tense muscles unwind. Amelie leaned against the wall and was staring into nothing. He put a hand on her shoulder and she shadowed it with his own. For one terrifying moment, he'd thought he was going to lose her in that room. He hadn't been quick enough to do much more than shield her with his own body when the first shot went off. He might've been able to grab his gun before the second round, but at that point it wouldn't have made much difference._

 _He'd let his guard down and it terrified him._

 _Amelie met his gaze and her eyes were glassy, "What if Roy doesn't understand?"_

 _"He will. Between that guy and my call to the Captain, we should be fine."_

 _"Where do we go now?"_

 _"Central Command. We can get there from the tunnels and no one will be able to see us."_

 _She nodded and took his hand when he led the way. Even with the icy crunch of half-frozen puddles underfoot he couldn't shake the turbulent emotions which were a mix of hers and his own. The ramifications of having let his guard down were intruding on any calm he might've been able to find._

* * *

 _Roy answered the door to see Nathaniel, out of breath and the puffs of air condensing before they disappeared. He pulled the young man inside and quickly brought him into the kitchen away from the windows. He wasn't gentle and the man caught himself on the island so he didn't go any further forward._

 _"Why are you here?"_

 _Nathaniel was still catching his breath, hands on his knees, but he met Roy's gaze, "No one's dead - I don't even know what happened but - they told me - to tell you - everything's fine."_

 _"Who's 'they'?"_

 _"A soldier. A woman with white hair. And my sister."_

 _"Where did the soldier and the woman go?"_

 _"I don't know. I just ran here."_

 _With a thick exhale through his nostrils, Roy stared at the man. Ally or not, he was involved now, "Do you know who the white-haired woman was?"_

 _"No."_

 _"Good. It stays that way. What you saw was an undercover operation and you cannot breath of word of it to anyone. No one. Friends, colleagues, other military, no one. Am I clear?"_

 _"But - "_

 _"Am. I. Clear?"_

 _Nathaniel nodded hesitantly, "Is it about the terrorists?"_

 _"You don't get any other information. Also, you're staying here. I can't risk you being followed."_

 _"My duties..."_

 _"I'll handle that in the morning. You're on the couch for the night. I have to make another phone call, but you should do your best to ignore it. Understood?"_

 _Realization spread over his face and he swallowed hard, "Yes, sir."_

 _Roy guided him to the living room and went back into the foyer. Having another hand in the pot frustrated him to no end, but he supposed that was better than being ignorant of Amelie's fate. The phone on the other end of the line rang twice before the owner picked up._

 _"It's me. Jean was right. It's over."_

 _He hung up decidedly and gave a long exhale. There wasn't much more to be done. He knew Jean would keep his sister safe and, if he'd retreated from Madame's in a rush, that meant he was taking tunnels. The easiest, safest bet would be to spend the night at Central Command. Havoc knew where to hide, knew where the supplies were. It wouldn't be comfortable or ideal, but they would be safe. Right now, that was more than he - her brother - could do for her. While the unplanned complication might work to their advantage, the fear of it being real and not a ruse still made his hands unsteady._

 _"Ummm, do you have any blankets?"_

 _Eyes rolling in their sockets, Roy threw his overcoat at the man._

* * *

 _Amelie had started the fire as soon as they made it to the General's antechamber and he'd pulled shut the thick drapes to hide the light. Now, Jean was just shaking off the chill of the hour-long trope through the tunnels. They hadn't hardly spoken on the way here. He'd been too focused on the path and she was eerily void. No strong emotions he could name, yet no awkwardness in their silence. Arms crossed over himself and briskly rubbing his upper arms, he blew a strong breath into his hands every few seconds until the fire was large enough to be more effective. The hearth was still frigid when he sat on his haunches, hands tucked into his armpits and still freezing cold. It didn't help that water had seeped through the sole on one of his boots which was in desperate need of replacement._

 _A thick, balmy blanket was placed over his shoulders and it immediately made his shoulders relax. Amelie came around to his front and touched his boot to repair the damage and dry the wet fabric inside. He gave her a canted smile, "I take it you're not cold?"_

 _She smiled back, "Not really."_

 _"Lucky."_

 _Her smile widened. A moment later, she looked into the fire and stared while it grew in strength. He watched her. Still, only the slightest flutter of emotions touched him from her. No anxiety, but not exactly comfort._

 _"I think I need to go back to the Gate. Talk to Truth," she said softly._

 _"Why?"_

 _"With Naomi's memories, I might have a chance of getting better information now that I know what to ask about."_

 _"How so?"_

 _"Truth will only show me what I ask for. It's kind of an asshole that way."_

 _"You'll go catatonic again, won't you?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Not sure how I feel about this. What if you run into trouble? I'm not an alchemist - I won't be able to help."_

 _"At this point, we're running out of options. The more I know about Roderick's alchemy, the less dangerous it is for us. All of us."_

 _Grimacing, Jean nodded._


End file.
